Once upon a time
there was a princess.
She was pissed off
’cause her life was a mess.

Her prince had run off
taking all of their cash.
She’d lost her job
and gone on the lash,

drowning her sorrows
in gallons of booze
and running up debts
buying beautiful shoes,

ignoring her friends
and family and all
till her godmother said
“You shall go to the ball!”

(Godmother was human
not some sort of fairy –
but she was quite eccentric
and could be a bit lairy.)

So she dressed the princess
in a second-hand gown,
took her to a club
in the rough part of town.

The princess met a bad boy
who shagged her rotten
and, for a while,
all her cares were forgotten.

(Godmother got off with
the nightclub owner –
a man who’d been begging
for ages to bone her.)

The princess’s temper
was greatly improved –
getting laid really changed
her entire attitude.

So she dumped the bad boy
(though he didn’t care),
lost some weight
and dyed her hair.

She found a new job,
moved somewhere nice
and always took heed
of Godmother’s advice:

“No more joint accounts –
you’re bound to regret it.
And, godmothers rock!
Don’t ever forget it.”