Princess
The Princess in her tower tall
With oaken door and granite wall
Sat sobbing at the window high
“Will someone save me” she did sigh
“Fear not young maid,“ a voice did shout
“For I am here, to get you out;
I have a cunning plan, so sly
To free you from your tower high
I’ll dress as does a man who’s poor
Then knock upon the outer door
And when the guard doth then unlock
I’ll beat his head in with this rock”
“Kind Prince” she said from up above
“You’re someone, I could truly love
But your attempt will be in vain
To rescue me you’ll need a crane
Although your planning may seem sound
I weigh three hundred and twenty pounds”
The prince then pondered hard and long
And wondered where he’d gone so wrong
He yearned to be a Royal hubby
But not to one who’s quite so chubby.
© John W Fenn 03-12-2008
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