ROBIN Basu
A mighty king once ruled the land,
But sleep was all he knew.
Awake one moment, then head in hand,
His dreams would start anew.
At court, he dozed both night and noon,
Mid-speech, he'd start to snore.
The sun would set, yet none too soon,
With judgments left in store.
The minister groaned, his patience thin,
And tore his locks in dread.
"A sleepy king—oh, what a sin!
Our kingdom’s nearly dead!"
A cure was sought, a way, a spell,
A healer soon was found.
"Some medicine, good sir, pray tell,
To keep him safe and sound!"
The doctor smiled and gave a wink,
"There is a cure, my friend.
Come closer, King, just stop and think,
This trick will make it end!"
A pinch of snuff, one mighty sneeze!
The King sat up, eyes wide.
His slumber fled upon the breeze,
And laughter rang inside!