All their bags are here, but not packed yet,
Clothes and baskets cover the carpet-
I recognize their ritual every time.
Friends with funny names, as if in code,
And they'll get their coffee on the road;
Already, I'm so lonesome I could cry.

Sure, they'll "miss" me and think of me
In that far off century,
Yet I'm at the window, watching as they go.
'Cause they're leaving their poor Finley-
So what if they take the stuffed Me?
I'm stuck here, just wandering to and fro.

I'll be on my back for belly rubs,
But they walk on by with another tub:
More like zombies, not a queen or king.
Glad my hashtag's not WhiteWarrior,
And though I hate to wear Max's antler,
To see them smile, I'd do most anything.

Oh they'll kiss me and take pictures of me,
And they get treated like royalty?!
But I really want to let them know
That their leaving on Finley Friday
Hurts more than words could ever say,
But only 'cause I can't speak English
(Yes I missed that line on purpose)

Someday, they'll step down, and come back home,
And miss all they witnessed on the throne,
Their people grateful for all they've done and been.
I'll snuggle in when they're tired and sore,
And when they fall asleep, I'll visit every door...
And bar them shut, so they'll never leave again!!

'Cause it hit me and my trickery
That they can't win Crown Tourney
If they're trapped with their noble Argent Hound!
And that's the Wrath of Finley!
Height and thumbs have nothing over me,
Deir cute wittew Bubba's face* will keep them around.

So if they leave their Finley,
I'll make this whole house smell like pee.
So, mom and dad, please don't let me down.

* in a baby talk voice