'Starlight, Star bright,

Star-shine, don't you care?'

They're giant balls of gas, you fool.

They cannot hear your prayer.

Your heart is made of lettuce,

Your mind is made of cheese.

How did you get so stupid, girl?

Just let her die, Lord, please!

You want to go down to the ball?

You've nothing to wear, dear.

You want to wear your mother's gown?

That's been out of style for years!

No, I don't think so, honey-lamb.

There's cleaning to be done.

Come now; don't fret, my stupid pet—

It won't be that much fun.

Well, it wasn't fun at all, my dear.

We didn't see the Prince!

He danced with some floozy all night!

It's enough to make me wince!

Wait, you say that girl was you?

Oh, goodness, what a laugh!

A pumpkin? Mice? Your 'godmother'?

Sweet Lord, my girl, you're daft!

You really think he loves you?

Oh, ha! How you're mistaken.

He's the prince of this whole land!

My God how you've been taken!

—He's taking her? Away from here?

My very own stepdaughter?

Oh mercy me! Oh, tragedy!

Now who will draw the water?

Notes: I currently have poetic constipation. It's THERE, it's COMING, it just won't come quick enough for me. So I wrote this, trying to get over it.

It didn't work, incidentally.