This story, Lucinda's a wreck of Some Afghan thing written a heck of A long time ago, And not, you should know, A rip-hov of some play by Chekhov. Three sisters all went for a walk, An didd, as Gals do, nowt but talk. Their perambulation Thus lacked concentration, They might be in Hayle or Dundalk. 'Twere neither the former nor latter, And when they at last stopped their chatter, Much ground had been crossed; They find themselves lost, As rain on the leaves starts to patter. As thunder roars, rain starts to pour, When, though they've ne'er seen it before, They now apprehend, Around the next bend, A castle, with wide-open door. I see, bawds, you're interest is waning. I'll kindle it thus: Once they're gaining Relief from the drips, Each one of them strips; Their clothes round some fireside are draining. Bare footed, bare armed and bare faced, They set out to see where they're placed. So take their bare fannies To search nooks and crannies 'Til all of the old joint is cased. This place is no palace of fun, They find when their searching is done, No porridge, no chairs, No three grizzly bears, Each room's bare as them, except one... And this one is locked, but the key Is perched on the lintel. The threeForm pyramid, hoist One babe to the joist, Insert into lock, door swings free. And as you'd expect in a hoary Old legend like this rancid story, On bed spread with chintz, Lies sleeping a prince, Erect in his priapic glory. They stand there in rapt admiration, So ere I resume my oration, The background I've missed Of these tarts, who've been kissed, And more, by the men of their nation. At least that's the case with our Goldilocks, The youngest in age, while old Moldipox, The eldest, prefers Goats, donkeys and curs, While virginal mid-sis is Holyhocks. So as you will guess, here I tell a New twist on that thing, Cinderella. Each one here will sit On pole, she who'll fit, Will surely get off with that fella. But due to her barnyard diversion, M can't grip, despite much exertion, And H is too tight, But G thinks she might... "I'm coming!"'s her gleeful assertion. The prince wakes, to joyful refrains, But straight way the pillock complains: "If you'd take your eyes Away from my thighs, You'd see that I'm strapped down with chains. "And though bondage fills some with glee, That' gals, ain't the case here with me. So you'd better go To the dungeons below, And get from a well there the key." So off troop our trio downstairs, To depths where the brave alone dares, (Or if not the brave, Then the fool, or the slave Of lust,) to the basement and there's... ...A well. Round the top they all grope, And find, passing downwards, a rope. With crud it's congealed, But they haul, and's revealed, Not soap, nor the pope smoking dope... ...But a bad tempered bird firmly caged. From below comes a voice, most enraged: "Come back with my parrot!" Then up pops a carrot- Haired giant, and soon he's engageed... ... With Moldypox, who cries: "At last! A man who will fill me. You bast- ard, come stick it here." The others, in fear, With parrot, skedaddle, real fast. "What use is that tattered old crow!" Cries Princey, his face full of woe.Thus answers the bird: "You shut up, you turd. For I have the key, don't you know?" The giant and M finish work, And join sisters, bird and the berk. "Right folks, you all get, Into a quartet," Cries parrot, "And you shut up, jerk." "The key, my dear boneheads, is D. I'll whistle, , you take it from me. A chorus or two Of `What'll I do?' Should do it, and then he'll be free." Their voices rise up to the strains... The resonant frequency's gained. A snap and a crack, The fetters go slack, And laddo is freed from his chains. Thus Goldie and Princey now share A life full of joy, and the pair Of Moldy and Red, Will spend years in bed, Which just leaves our Holyhocks spare. The moral of what has occurred, Lucinda dear, as you have heard, If you don't give pleasure With your little treasure, You'll finish up getting the bird. * * *
This telling is faithful to the original Afghan tale right up to the start of verse 2.
If you adjust the number of sisters to 7, we can get almost to the end of verse 3.
Apart from the prince in a locked room, (but not shackled), the well, and the giant, most of the rest is a slight deviation - but that's known as the folk process.
There's more about Cinderella
and parrots on
or you can return to
Wednesday, September 03, 2003