Dog Ii: Royal Protocol Poem by Douglas Scotney

Brought up to wash my hands
After I'd patted a dog
I thought I'd have a glove at hand
In the palace of Betty and Phil.

I'll provide that, said Derek,
It'll make the queen feel loved
What's more it'll give her a thrill.

But,
A stickler for protocol,
The Consorter was sort of fussy:
He seemed to remember a rule
Forbidding laying a glove on a queen
For what it was said to mean,
That the queen was a brazen hussy.