Looking down at the minions below,
Where camaraderie blooms a perfect hue,
Insignia in silver shines on proud,
Of sweat and blood the castles built,
Shielding from the torrential rains,
The grateful minions who hail thy name,
Sing thy praises in morning prayers,
And in a billion dedicated tears,
In the percussive melody of rosary beads,
A heartfelt, graceful genuflection,
I lower my stare, a reverent curtsy,
Blinds my world thy aura divine,
And if I were a tad bit braver,
Or a few leagues sturdier still,
A stairway to my dreams I'd build,
And if my blood like thine did flow,
On clouds I'd seat my exalted self,
And dance as the minions tunefully bellow,
Rhymes in the praise of their saviours!
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