I've had a little Dr. Seuss parody in mind for years, and decided, with a little help from using Google's Thesaurus functions, to make something of it. This isn't intended to be a proper canon Oz story, but if one insisted on adding it, I suppose it'd fit in after The Emerald City of Oz, but before Tik-Tok of Oz.
Every Ozian in Oz loved Ozma a lot,
But the Nome King, who lived somewhere under Oz, did not.
The Nome King loathed Ozma, her grace and her charm.
Her kindness, her laughter—it set off alarms!
He grumbled and growled in his deep, rocky hall,
“I’ll snatch her away—she won’t rule at all!”
For the Nome King had hatched a most terrible scheme,
“I’ll kidnap that Ozma, that goody-two-shoes queen!
Without their dear ruler, those fools will despair,
And Oz will be mine—what a marvelous affair!”
So one winter eve, while Oz danced with delight,
He snuck to the surface, cloaked by the night.
With a clever disguise—a humble old man,
He mingled with Ozians to put forth his plan.
He shuffled through streets with his head bowed low,
But he couldn’t resist seeing what he’d overthrow.
In the heart of the city, there Ozma stood tall,
Welcoming all to her grand Emerald Hall.
“Come one, come all, there’s room for each guest!”
She said with a smile that shone of her best.
The Nome King froze, his plan paused a bit,
For he saw her console a child whose gift had been split.
“You’ve broken your toy? Oh, let’s fix that right here,”
Ozma said gently, erasing the tear.
With a wave of her hand and a soft little hum,
The child’s broken toy was as good as new—done!
The Nome King blinked, his disguise growing slack.
“Bah! Just a trick! A cheap little act!”
But as he skulked closer, he heard more and more—
Ozma helping the weary, the hurt, and the poor.
An old Munchkin farmer bowed low to her grace,
“Your kindness, dear Ozma, none can replace.”
And from every corner, the gratitude rang,
In laughter, in stories, in songs that they sang.
The Nome King, bewildered, forgot his dark ploy.
He stood in the hall, feeling something like joy.
Why did they love her? Now he understood:
It wasn’t her power, but her heart that was good.
Summoning courage, he approached her at last,
His sinister scheme now a thing of the past.
Ozma turned gently, her eyes met his own,
“What troubles you, friend? You’re not here alone.”
The Nome King stammered, his malice all gone,
“I planned to take you, to make Oz my pawn.
But seeing your kindness, your love for your land,
I cannot proceed with the scheme I had planned.”
Ozma smiled warmly, her hand touched his arm,
“Everyone’s welcome, no need for alarm.
Join us in friendship, there’s no need to flee.
What can I do to bring you some glee?”
The Nome King pondered, his heart feeling light,
“I wish you well, Ozma. I’ll return to my night.
But know that your goodness has softened my heart,
Perhaps in the future, we’ll make a new start.”
So he slunk back to his cavern, his plan left undone,
Though his heart, just a little, felt touched by her sun.
And each year after, though still rough and gruff,
He’d send Ozma tributes, some real pretty stuff!
For the Nome King had learned what the Ozians knew:
True greatness is kindness, and it shines through and through.