By Michael Rosen
Copyright 1986 Michael Rosen
Once there was a king who was very rich and very fat. He was rich because many people worked for him, and he was fat because he ate and drank a lot. But he was quite a busy king. Every day he went out into his garden to watch his gardeners tending his strawberries and plums and peaches. Every day he went to see his weavers making his silk shirts, and every day he went to see his carpenters making his beds and tables, stairways and rafters for all his buildings.
Everywhere he went, he took with him his old friend, the Lord Chamberlain. This old friend was nearly as happy as the king – or he had to pretend, anyway, because everywhere the king went he had to sing the king’s two favourite songs: Happy days are here again and God save the king.
One day before the fat, happy king and the Lord Chamberlain came round visiting, one of the gardeners, one of the weavers and one of the carpenters were sitting talking.
Old Jack, the gardener spoke first.
“Funny thing you know, lads, in my time I must have picked tons and tons of peaches off the peach trees in the king’s fruit gardens and do you know – I’ve scarcely eaten as many as would fit into these two hands.”
And then Joseph the silk weaver spoke.
“Well I don’t know about you, Jack, but I must have made enough silk in my time to stretch from here to the sea and back, and I haven’t got enough broadcloth – let alone silk – to patch up the hole in my trousers.”
And then Nobby the carpenter spoke. “You two can talk. Come home with me tonight, and I’ll show you our most valuable belonging. A three-legged table! When we have supper, we take it in turns to be the fourth leg. I can’t bear to think of the timber that went into the building of those stairs up to his bedroom.”
“I am going to tell the king about this,” old Jack said. “He is a good man. When he hears how hungry I’ve been these last few weeks he’ll understand and he’ll give us a bit more money.” So Joseph the weaver, said he would tell the king about the hole in his trousers and Nobby said her would tell him about his three-legged table.
So that day, when the king came to the garden, up comes old Jack.
“Your Majesty,” he says.
“It’s good old Jack,” the king shouted “How are you?”
“Not so bad your Majesty. I was just wondering, your Majesty, if…”
“Give him a song, Chamberlain” shouted the king, “Not to worry, Jack. We all wonder, we all wonder.”
The Lord Chamberlain sang You’ll never walk alone.
“Join in Jack,” the king said. “It is a good old song.”
So Jack, the king and the chamberlain sang you’ll never walk alone.
“Back to work now, Jack my old fellow,” the king said, as he turned to the chamberlain. “Marvellous fellow, old Jack, you know.”
Next they came to Joseph, the silk weaver.
How is it all going, Joseph?” the king said cheerily to old Joseph.
“Oh not so bad, your Majesty, thanks,”
“Good, good,” the king said. “Show us what you have done today.”
So Joseph got up and took them across to his loom, and as he went, the king saw the hole in Joseph’s trousers, and he roared out laughing.
“Poor Joseph! Do you know, Joseph, you’ve got a great big hole in your trousers and your bum’s showing through?”
“Oh yes,” Joseph said: “I did your Majesty, and I was going to ask you whether… whether…”
And the Lord Chamberlain started to sing.
whether the weather be hot, whether the weather be cold, We’ll weather the weather, Whatever the weather, Whether we like it or not.
Then they all had a really good laugh, and Joseph went back to work.
“Marvellous old bloke, old Joseph, you know,” the king said to the Chamberlain, and they walked on to see Nobby.
When they got to Nobby’s workshop, Nobby wasn’t there.
“He’ll be just around the corner, I expect,” the Lord Chamberlain said.
“Well I don’t like waiting,” the king said. “I want to see my new bed. Nobby! Nobby!”
The king shouted, but there was no answer. Nobby’s coat was on the door, and Nobby’s bag of tools was on the bench, so the king went over to the bench and looked in the bag. And there, in the middle of the bag, was a piece of seasoned wood. It was a piece of oak from the king’s woods.
Just then, Nobby came in.
“What’s this?” the king demanded.
Nobby could think of nothing to say.
“That’s a… that’s a… that’s a hoofer-doofer… That’s a thingummy-jig your majesty.
The happy king turned to the Chamberlain.
“What do you think it is, Chamberlain?” he said.
“It is a piece of your oak, your Majesty,” the Chamberlain said.
“Well, well, well,” the king said, and laughed in a nasty way. “What a silly old fellow you are, Nobby! You tell him how silly he is, Chamberlain.”
So the Lord Chamberlain sang a song called You are my sunshine but he also took out a knife and cut off Nobby’s ear.
“That is because you weren’t ‘ere when we arrived,” the king said. “Next time when we call for you, you will ‘ear, won’t you?”
The happy king laughed at his joke, while the chamberlain sang
You are my sunshine, My only sunshine, You make me happy, When are grey. You’ll never know dear, How much I love you…
When he sang these last words, the Lord Chamberlain cut out Nobby’s tongue.
“That is because what you said didn’t make sense,” the king said.
At that, the Lord Chamberlain got ready to cut off Nobby’s hand, because that is what he usually did when someone was ‘handy’ with the happy king’s oak – the king’s birds, the king’s rabbits, anything else that came out of the king’s woods. But, this time, the king stopped him.
“No, Chamberlain! He can keep his hand. He’ll need it to finish making my new bed. But, do finish the song, my dear fellow. We don’t want to miss that.”
So the Lord Chamberlain finished his song.
…You never know dear, How much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.
After that, the happy king and the obedient Chamberlain went off together leaving Nobby standing in the middle of his workshop with blood pouring from his head.
“Silly old Nobby,” the king said to the Chamberlain. “Still, he’ll know better next time, won’t he? I mean, if I’d let him get away with that piece of wood, he’d only steal more and more, and then he’d have so much wood, he wouldn’t need to work for me any more, would he? And then I’d have no one to make my beds and wardrobes and dressers and tables and my beautiful, beautiful chairs, would I?”
“No, your Majesty, you wouldn’t,” the Lord Chamberlain said, as he cleaned Nobby’s blood off the royal knife. “And, what is more, your Majesty, it will be a lesson for all your other subjects to learn from.”
The king smiled happily.
“I have done good work today, Chamberlain,” he said.
“Yes, you have done good work today.” the Lord Chamberlain said.
“Justice had been done, I think, don’t you, Chamberlain?”
“Justice had definitely been done, my Lord,” the Lord Chamberlain said.
And they rode off to the palace.
As they rode off , side by side, throughout the fields and along the roads that led to the palace, neither the king nor the Lord Chamberlain had eyes to see the hundreds of ploughboys, bakers, maids, beggars, cowherds and dressmakers who had also received the King’s Justice – just like Nobby, the carpenter. As they rode by, neither the king nor the Lord Chamberlain could hear the talk that passed between those people. And the happy king and his Chamberlain could not possibly imagine what those people were imagining: that a time would come when the King’s Good Words and the King’s Justice would be stopped – once and forever.