He sits with grace upon his throne,
A coat as white as polished stone.
One paw placed just so, befitting—
All hail the King.

One eye of gold, one icy blue,
A royal gaze that passes through.
So prim, so proper, everything—
All hail the King.

His snowy chest, his noble stare,
Not one white whisker out of square.
Except that little crust ain’t sugar—
All hail the King of eye boogers.