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This princess is so feisty.
She gets so moody rightly.
She wakes up and puts her blood makeup.
It really looks so nasty.
So now she goes a rolling.
Strumpeting and strolling.
Past muddy huts and linen stuff.
This poverty is appalling.

Down at the lagoon she began to swoon.
A prince came through the mist.
A brawny chap with dapper cap.
No woman could resist.
She took one step and slipped on it.
And now she’s what he’s bearing.
Fortunate meeting, a lover’s tryst.
But now he must be seafaring.

She cannot hope to be on that boat.
She collapses in revolt.
Love wings begin to molt.
She tugs at her chest and rips out the rest.
Her broken heart is in her hands.
Thumping and bumping she rips it all apart.
With nothing left, an empty nest, a pity sight to regard.
Bloody now, lonely cow, she turns to solid stone.
The maiden of the forest you can often hear her moan.
Shrill whines and deadly cries, truly chilling to the bone.

Her ghostly form haunts all the swarm.
In town and bustling carriage.
Beware her wrath and never take the path.
To child rearing and marriage.
She’ll come for you with snarling jaws.
And devour hearts full of love.

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