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His royal duke-less-ness; regular sweat-less andy

The Ballad of Regular Person Andy

Once a prince with pomp and perks,

Now stripped of titles, dodging smirks.

From York’s high halls to scandal’s pit,

Andy proved entitlement’s witless skit.

(No sweat, he swears.)

He sneered at Kate, with jealous bite,

A petty uncle, dim in spite.

William sharpened knives behind the scene,

While Andy puffed with airs obscene.

(No sweat, he swears.)

Twelve million pounds — oh, what a loan?

“From mummy’s purse?” the whispers groan.

A buffoon’s bill, a nation’s sigh,

Privilege paid to make truth die.

(No sweat, he swears.)

Emails with Epstein, “we’re in this…

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