The Prince of Tide

Once upon a time,
In a washroom far away,
There lived a lad named Cye Maury
Who was bonnie, bright and fey.

Serving was his duty
And he did his tasks each day:
Cooking, washing, cleaning up
After his four mates.

It often was a bother,
A pain to take such care
Of those who barely recognized
Or knew that he was there.

Cye didn’t often speak
And when he did they drowned him out.
They barely even raised their heads
When he was forced to shout.

So he went about the laundry
And did his petty chores,
Growing bitter still and still
Till he could bit no more.

But little did he know
(And his mates had not a clue)
That this darling lad from Britain’s shore
Was a prince of waves sea blue!

The son of a mighty king was he,
And of a pretty mer-queen,
Born with a tail of silver scales
And eyes of ocean green.

But the family made a pact
With an old witch long ago
Promising their first born son
When the queen was dying slow.

But at his birth they could not part
With precious little Cye,
So they gave him legs, put him ashore
And bade their last goodbye.

He was found and raised by humans,
And we find him here this day:
Washing clothes and cleaning house
And cooking for his mates.

It isn’t quite an honor
But for humor’s sake, confide:
He isn’t too far from his home . . .
‘Cause he’s still the Prince of Tide®.