Ready for your Meg-time story? As the Duchess of Sussex publishes a children’s book in verse, JAN MOIR pens her own affectionate parody
With pen in hand and heart on sleeve, the Duchess of Sussex has sallied forth and committed herself to the beautiful world of poetry and literature.
In a munificent invasion of her own privacy, the Duchess revealed that she gifted her husband with a poem on the first Father’s Day following the birth of their son, Archie.
O hail the imp of inspiration/the imaginative elf/for she went and wrote it/all by herself.
This poem became the basis of her children’s book The Bench, which focuses on the deep bond shared by father and son, often prodigious.
Perhaps soon she will write a companion book called Approach The Bench, focusing on the deep bond shared by father and daughter, often litigious.
In the spirit of fun, and to celebrate Meghan’s achievement, we have summoned up the mothers of invention and pulped the creative juices from the sermon lemons to reimagine her poem and affectionately parody her book — through a compassionate and inclusive lens, of course.
This image released by Random House Children’s Books shows The Bench, a children’s book by Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, and with pictures by Christian Robinson
To my love, upon the occasion of becoming a father
Come my love and tarry forth,
Upon this bench we’ll perch.
I’d never heard of you before we met,
Despite my hundredth Google search.
A Prince you say?
A Duke to boot,
well that’s just
fine and dandy.
I’m against unearned white privilege,
unless it comes in handy.
Let’s talk of the family we’ll raise,
Our babe, our kith, our kin.
Let’s speak of finding freedom,
and play our victim violin.
For this great symphony we have started,
over nations it will cross
And my love while you’re a father now,
Don’t forget who’s boss
This is your bench/ All polished and fine/ We’ll pad it with the finest silk/ Now we’re on Disney’s dime
My Love is home from the old country/ In a uniform that’s become a life lesson/ His granny won’t let him wear it no more/ I call that a micro-aggression
Daddy has a daddy too,/ We thought we’d love him in perpetuity./ But then he failed the mommy test/ By refusing to pay for our security
It’s Baby’s first Oprah,/ A TV appearance so bold./ I know I promised you privacy, child/ But just hush and do what you’re told
My love and my son play/ Down in the henhouse,/ Counting our eggy inlay./ But why is it still that so few people/ Have asked if I am OK?
Son, play billiards sans culottes/ Run wild and look super cute./ But even in a moment of fun/ Please don’t give a Nazi salute
Here comes My Love, in his gas-guzzling Jeep./ Those promises to be good and green?/ So very hard to keep
The bond of father and son/ Forms the heart of the family altar./ A shame I can’t say the same/ About a father and a daughter
Yes, we loathe the Royal Family/ And a way of life that stifles/ But please, O Lord, and all above,/ Let us hang on to our titles