• Long ago, or so it is told
    In leather-bound books both young and old
    There was a damsel, her name was Snow
    She could cook and clean, sing and sew
    Ebony curls covered her head
    Skin so pale she could have been dead
    Lips as red as the heart in her chest
    Blah blah blah, you know the rest.

    The true queen died, and between me and you
    The king bit off more than he could chew
    When he married a woman as foul as they come
    Who loved Snow as much as some gum
    She just couldn’t seem to get off her foot
    No matter how much she picked at it.

    This was the reason that late at night
    Snow White would sit and by torch light
    Devise a plan so evil, so witty
    She almost, with an emphasis on almost, took pity
    On the queen she planned to send to her demise
    It was just so brilliant she deserved a prize
    She would hire an assassin to lure the queen out
    And in the woods with no one about
    He would cut out her heart and leave her there
    She could rot on the ground, Snow didn’t care.

    Unfortunately, the queen caught wind
    Of our Snow White’s deadly friend
    And while being dragged out the door
    She snatched a high heel from the floor
    And pierced the man in the throat
    And wondered why he didn’t float
    When she dumped him in the palace pond
    You see the queen was rather blonde.

    Snow White was furious her scheme was flawed
    And so it was back to the drawing board
    She thought long and she thought hard
    Until one day pacing through the yard
    She came across an apple tree.
    Her face lit up with sudden glee
    She picked a batch of the gleaming crop
    And ‘by mistake’ did she drop
    Them into a bucket of Arsenic
    And returned them to the kitchen quick.

    That night she threw an almighty fit
    And screamed, while spattering the cook with spit
    That she neither requested crème brulée nor mousse
    Nor the kitchen’s sad excuse
    “The queen needs something more than money can buy!
    She needs a Danish apple pie!
    Slavered in custard but low in fat
    Surely, even you can manage that!”

    At the table she was all smiles again
    And finally when pudding came
    She gasped, as did the rest of the court,
    When the pie arrived with a bottle of port
    And was placed in front of their beloved queen
    Whose eyes did glint at such cuisine.
    She dug her fork in nice and deep
    And, in one graceful arch, did sweep
    The piled fork into her gaping maw
    And smiled in delighted awe
    At the sweetness, at the tang!
    And something she couldn’t quite put her finger on...

    The funeral was a sad event
    With many on the floor in torment
    Except for one in the first row
    Who seemed to hide her face in woe.
    At first glance, she seemed to wail
    And splutter behind a flowing black vale
    But if you looked a little closer
    Through the fake weeping and lack of composure
    You would see the sparkle in her eye
    And not a tear spilt, her cheeks were dry...

    If ever Queen Snow invites you to dine
    We advise that you do not decline
    But make sure that you hastily depart
    If she offers you any apple tart...