by Nick Gisburne
She stabs the sleeping beauty through the heart
And takes her place to catch herself a prince
Her spells reveal that one will soon depart
A royal she can gut and grind to mince
They always seek the virginal, the pure
Parading to the peasantry their prize
But this one will be absolutely sure
Of how to love a knife between the eyes
Perhaps he is a rugged, handsome brute
Who rides because his muscles never rest
With all the social graces of a newt
Appreciating nothing but the quest
But he, who knows the magic of a witch
Decapitates the evil, sleeping bitch
