11 May 2012
A prince was riding out one day
Across his many lands
And came across a withered crone
A rose clutched in her hands
She said to him, in husky tones
Sir, will you hear my plight?
A storm is coming, I have no food
Would you shelter me tonight?
She pulled her shawl against the wind
Thought she was for the crows
And with a cold and shaking hand
She offered Prince the rose
He looked at her, then laughed, and said
Do you really think that I
Would give to you the time of day
When I come from up on high?
Then as if by magic
Metamorphosis took place
There stood a sweet enchantress
Young and fair of face
With jaw agape and fluttering cape
Realising his mistake
Prince leapt from his handsome steed
For the rose to take
Ah my Prince, she said and sighed
For you it is too late
You took a glance, then blew your chance
To cure an ugly trait
She closed her eyes and waved her wand
She cast a spell with flair
And when she'd done enchanting
A beast was standing there
So if a woman asks for help
Best to let her in
For the moral of this story is
True beauty lies within
Prince • Opuss № I