Beware the HairThere once was a maiden, fair as the ice
and whose hair went down to her hips.
She met a bright prince, who campaigned afar,
on return he favored her to lock lips.
And so love cast it’s spell, locking her in,
as gesture she cut for him, her hair.
He relished the lock; held tight to it always,
then- he started to be quite unfair.
He ordered her to trim not an inch of her curl,
T’was a queer thing to force on his sweet.
And in love, she preferred to lose her before he,
Grew the hair down far past her feet.
And so as the days went, consumed by the task,
she became a bundle of fray.
Twas no eyes, breast, nor knees to gaze upon,
a contorted caricature stay.
And the prince now alarmed at the beast,
he created because of a fetish,
He left her at home, and for e’er more alone,
on the table he left not a radish.
The folk of town not knowing her face,
were afraid of her wandering there,
they voted to put her to sleep e’er more.
But the fires left alone her mad hair.
Now hungry for love, the locks of the ice.
they hunt wandering lovers in mist.
Protect yourself now from the horror of her,
stay but kind to all you have kissed.