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