The Fresh Prince

Now, this is a story all about me

The Fresh Ginger Prince of British Royalty

And I’d like to take a moment of your time

Just sit right there

I’ll tell you how I became the Fresh Prince of Spare Heir


In Windsor Castle, London, born and raised

Silver spoon in mouth was where I spent most of my days

Chillin’ out, maxin’, relaxin’, at Eton College

And all whilst showing off my fancy dress and WWII knowledge

When a couple of girls in Las Vegas took photos of me starkers

Started making money by selling to the press, the nosey parkers

Front page news and my granny got irate

She said, “You’re going to war in Afghanistan, mate”


I begged and pleaded with her, threatened to reveal one day on Oprah

But she packed my things, and said “if you do, the UK Government will call a Cobra”

She guided me to the door with her corgis, I couldn’t stop her

I put my iPod on and said, “Fine, where’s my chopper”


Royal class, yo this is nice

Titanic gin please, easy on the ice

William, is this what serving in the military is like?

Hmm, if so, the long line to the British throne can take a hike


But wait, I thought they bought their medals online, no disputes

I’d much rather be at home watching that chick from Suits

I don’t think so

I’ll see when I get there

I hope they’re prepared for the Fresh Prince of Spare Heir

One response to “The Fresh Prince

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