Titled Poem by Phil Soar

His title never stopped him on the road to kingdom come
He turned his nose at the garden hose, his gardener was the one
Who carried out his wishes, when it came to all his grounds
He owned a vast estate, and rode the hunt with all the hounds
The servants called him sir, and they were at his beck and call
He had a thousand paintings hanging on his mansion wall
But that made little impact, when the grim reaper appeared
The gardener made a hole for him, and then he disappeared