Old King Cole

Old King Cole

Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he, He called for his friends, not for pipes or a bowl, But for laughter and games, beneath the old oak tree. King Cole, with a twinkle in his eye, wasn't your typical king, He cared less for riches, and more for the joy that games could bring. So instead of grand feasts, with jesters and clowns, He'd gather his friends, from all over the towns. The baker would bring a giant chessboard, made of frosted delight, With cookies for pawns, and a gingerbread knight. The blacksmith, strong and true, would craft a ring toss so grand, Using horseshoes and buckets, scattered across the land. The weaver, with fingers so nimble and quick, Would weave a grand hunt, with a hidden, secret trick. Riddles and clues, beneath the warm sun, To find a lost button, or a spool undone. King Cole, with a booming laugh, would cheer them all on, No matter who won or lost, the fun had just begun. For King Cole believed, that friendship and play, Were more valuable treasures, than any held at bay. As the day wore on, stories were shared, beneath the leafy shade, Songs filled the air, a joyful serenade. King Cole, a king of merriment, a ruler of delight, Proved that happiness wasn't found, in just wealth and might. So next time you gather, with friends old and new, Remember King Cole, and the games he held so true. For laughter and friendship, a bond that can't be beat, Are the greatest treasures, on any king's royal seat.