There once was a mother--
That is, soon to be.
Her cravings consumed her,
But some weren't cheap.

 

The French tell it different:
She cries out for parsley.
Compared to Rapunzel,
This story's told sparsely

 

Parsley you see
Is a means to an end,
And her pregnancy
Was what she meant to end.

 

So she asked her dear husband,
And at once he agreed:
Of course he would fetch her
These closely watched weeds.

 

Because neither him
Nor either his wife
Were prepared for a daughter--
Prepared to give life.

 

Under cover of darkness,
A blanket so thin,
At once he was caught,
And yet he still wins.

 

This witch with her parsley
Knows what these two seek,
And she says they may have it--
After just thirty weeks.

 

So the witch will come visit,
And deliver her brew,
And the mother will drink it,
A rich, hearty stew.

 

Not seasoned with parsley,
Not spiced with an herb--
But flavored with caring
Of this witch for what's hers.

 

And thirty weeks later,
There's no sacrifice.
Just a witch and a mother,
Prepared to give life.

 

And so she gives it,
As the baby cries out,
With a name Persinette
For how she came about.

 

At once the witch takes her,
She babbles and coos,
And nods to the parents,
And none of them lose.

 

Out to the country
This witch takes the child.
She feeds her and bathes her
And lets her run wild.

 

She calls her a princess
And builds her a tower,
And Persinette feels cherished
Each minute, each hour.

 

Soon she grows up:
Longer hair, longer legs,
And leaves the witch alone
Some nights and most days.

 

She brings home a boy,
He brings her home too,
His parents accept her,
But hers disapproves.

 

Her mother the witch
Is reminded of birth:
Her mother not ready;
She thought her a curse.

 

She hopes Persinette
Will wait for the day
When she's ready for life--
To give, not give away.

 

She grounds her at home,
Still the boy comes around,
And soon Persinette
Grows her hair to the ground.

 

Her boy climbs her tresses,
And neither will wait.
Meanwhile the witch grumbles;
She bargains with fate.

 

And the witch bears witness
To young love yet again,
And all she has left
Is her garden to tend.

 

And where is the ending?
What more can I say?
The prince and the princess
Will give
Or give away.