Peanut-Butter Sandwich

Where The Sidewalk Ends

I'll sing you a poem of a silly young king

Who played with the world at the end of a string,

But he only loved one single thing—

And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.

His scepter and his royal gowns,

His regal throne and golden crowns

Were brown and sticky from the mounds

And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.