When Ben was young his teachers said
Some bulbs had blown inside his head.
They said, at best, he'd be a dot,
And he should put the short word 'not'

Before his dreams and aims in life,
Like 'Finding some Miss-World-like wife'.
'Not' would help him reach his goals.
He'd end up working digging holes.

His father said to set his sights
Below the brightly coloured lights,
And work in some dark, smelly place
Where things with fangs might bite his face,

In pitch-black rooms with vampire bats,
Or angry rats the size of cats,
And feral cats the size of dogs,
And vicious dogs the size of hogs.

In school he was perceived as dim.
His fellow pupils voted him
Most likely to be killed by ants
Or something he put down his pants

After gamblers placed their bets.
The medics present would be vets.
They said he'd end up living in
A tree, a box or in a bin.

They thought he'd die and leave a mess,
But he's become a great success.
His brand new house is not a tree.
He won the National Lottery.

And all it took was his dumb luck.
He couldn't give a flying duck
To all the duckless people who
Believed his brain cells were too few.

His garden's home to ducks and swans,
And many statues made of bronze.
Peacocks roam the perfect lawns,
Where butterflies enrapture fawns.

His butler buttles flawlessly.
Ben will drink and fall asleep.
He spills the beer from his gold cup.
His clothes are clean when he wakes up.

He pays a fortune for his clothes,
And for the suits on his scarecrows.
He built a pub inside his house.
He's working on the 'Miss World' spouse.

He's seen now in a different light.
His stature's at a record height.
Those who said his head had broke
Now realise this was a joke.