By Denis Martindale

The lion was named as Simba,
The winner of each brawl,
Yet the reason was much simpler,
His legend’s known to all…
Portraying all a lion was
And all God meant to be,
Magnificent and all because
He ruled with majesty…

He didn’t merely walk, he strode,
He moved with style and grace,
As if to serve some higher code,
Content all foes to face…
And few would dare to contradict
His power and his guile,
He was the lion king God picked
And for a long, long while…

The other lions understood,
They knew their place, of course,
They knew he ruled the neighbourhood
And thus obeyed his laws…
No friends had he, not even one
And yet he didn’t care,
For at each meal that had begun,
He had the lion’s share…

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