Rapunzel

Rapunzel Rapunzel put up your hair

It trails down to the bottom stair

To the prince, standing there

Waiting to take you, the king’s own heir

To the palace, as cortisians stare

And whisper about the strange affair

And the golden grace that follows you everywhere

And your ferocity with kitchenware 

And the light in your eyes, a joyous flair

As you dance with your love in the cool night air