The Squirmy Urchin King

There is a fellow that I know with squirmy urchin ways
Who sits upon a throne of biases he's made.
He wears a crown upon his head, fashioned with his words
And shouts at all the other urchins he sees in the world
"You," he cries, with nod of head, "and your squirmy urchin ways
Will bring you down to nothing, and in time, straight to the grave!"
"But excuse me," says a passer by, aren't you an urchin too?"
"Nay," he cried, with wounded pride, "I am a KING you fool!"
"But, Squirmy," says an urchin friend, are you not one of us?"
"A lark! A trick! A mockery!" He laughed as though he'd bust.
"It is you, the horrid and lowly to whom I have been sent.
You must bow before my feet and to my rule be bent!"
"Nay, friend," the fellow urchin said, choking on the words,
"For you to ask such things of us is ridiculous! Absurd!"
"I am KING! Tis I who knows what is right and what is not!
This rebellion in your hearts, it is a thing that must be fought!
I alone know what is best, so follow my decrees!
You ought appreciate any notice paid of you by me!"
A crowd had gathered at this point, listening to what he'd say
But as he yelled and fumed at them, all of them went away.
So on it went, day after day, the same old sort of thing,
For no one dared try to befriend that Squirmy Urchin King.