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Poem
A tale of greed, power, 
deception, discrimination and 
love. 

Miller, daughter, king—
All the actors are present
Except the small man. 

The king summons the miller 
for some reason. Summons a 
humble working man. 

Miller, shaken, scared, 
Pleases king, saying daughter
Spins straw into gold. 

The king, a very greedy king, 
says bring her here, then she 
can spin and be my wife or die. 
The daughter is very beautiful 
and also shrewd as well as 
clever but she's really not up to 
the task. 

Daughter locked in room
Piles of straw, spinning wheel 
too.
Spin gold or die? Sobs…

The next thing she knows is a 
little man, (manikin, troll, 
angel?) appears and for a price 
offers to do the job (not an 
angel). So she offers her ring 
and he spins the straw into 
gold:

'Round about, round, round
Lo, behold, straw spun to gold
Reel away, more, more

When the straw was gone the 
dwarf man disappeared. The 
king, next day allowed that that 
gold was fine but, greedier than 
ever wanted more (or was that 
just to prove her worthy wife 
material?).

Another room—straw
Piles and piles of it. Again?
What now? Oh woe, woe

While she was weeping the 
manikin appeared again but 
this time offered his services at 
a price, a huge price: her 
firstborn child. 
Well, she thought this job is too 
big even for the little man's 
magic and I'll die before I have 
a child anyway so she said OK 
and the dwarf set to work. He 
was fast. 

Round about, round, round
Lo, behold, straw spun to gold
Reel away, more—done

The great straw pile was gone. 
All turned to gold in a twinkling. 
Manikin vanished. 
The king was delighted and 
married her forthwith. No more 
testing. Besides if she's my 
queen I can make her refill the 
treasury any time I want. 

The new queen soon with
Child forgot the little man.
Time passed; first babe born. 

King and queen were thrilled. 
Little man, manikin, dwarf, troll 
(he really was a troll) was 
totally forgotten. (Trolls always 
want human children.)
One evening the little troll 
reappeared in the young 
queen's boudoire. 

It's time to pay up.
Give me what you promised 
now.
Eyes wide—thunderstruck

The queen began to weep 
inconsolably and shake with 
alarm. What have I done? 
What can I give you instead? 
But the dwarf was adamant. 
Nothing! I will have the child 
because I will! 
The went on and on until the 
manikin relented somewhat. 

I'll come back. Three days.
Guess my name by then; if not
Your son is mine. Mine. 


Again he disappears and the 
queen is still stunned. What to 
do. A plan. She sends all the 
king's horses and all the king's 
men out and around to 
ascertain the troll's name. No 
luck the first day. No luck the 
second day. No luck the third 
day either except for one old 
huntsman who couldn't keep up 
with the rest. Sitting on a log in 
the forest quiet he hears merry 
singing. 

Today I brew and
Tomorrow I bake; the next
Thing—the boy I take!

The old huntsman creeps closer 
and sees the troll dancing 
around a fire in front of his 
cave. Oblivious in the dusk he 
sings:

The queen won't ever
Know my fame—
Rumpelstiltskin
Really is my name. 

Poor Troll. Should not have 
celebrated so soon. 
Vary quietly leaving the forest 
the huntsman races back to tell 
the queen who, in a funk-had 
about given up. Tables turned, 
the ecstatic queen now thinks 
how she'll string along the 
manikin when he comes to 
collect. 

Tease him with titles
Name after name and then-
bam!
his real cognomen!

And so she did; in front of her 
whole court too. Norman, no, 
Jake, no, Aloyisius, no—how 
about RUMPELSTILTSKIN?
"Witch, you're a witch," he 
says. The queen sweetly 
smiles. 

Astonished, enraged
Rumpelstiltskin jumps—UP—
DOWN
Down through the floor, deep


Rumpelstiltskin stamps so 
heavily through the castle floor 
into the earth that he 
disappears completely—
swallowed up, back to troll 
country. 

Finis, finis, fin
Moral? What can you winkle
Out of this story?
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