Rumpelstiltskin’s Limericks

You think that you know my story.

My actions, you call predatory.

To take a young girl

With her little dark curls

And claim from her infant and glory.

But the truth is not what you know.

Truthfully, she, not her father, did crow:

She could make gold from straw—

She cared not for the law—

And there starts my story of woe.

The girl and I made a contract.

By her will, though she’ll claim she was attacked.

The girl’s dad owned the mill,

Hired me on for my skill.

If I said no to her, I’d be sacked.

My mom was the daughter of fairies.

And by custom, a girl intermarries.

Halflings have power with gold

But their skills must be sold

For a price to beneficiaries.

When the miller’s girl was spreading her lie,

I told her that my price would apply.

I begged with pleading voice

That she make another choice.

“I want power, not children” she replied.

So when she got what she sowed,

In that castle with her load

Of straw that was spun

Our deal half-way done,

I waited until she glowed.

That’s when I came to her tower

Aware of the birthing hour

Compelled by the fae

To bring them a babe

And dragged about by their power.

But don’t think that I had no heart.

I’d told her the truth from the start.

I’d left her the scroll

Which contained a loophole.

She could’ve saved us both were she smart.

They began the search for my name.

But to her, it was still just a game.

What a great thank you,

To rip me in two,

Human dead, fairy spirit in shame.

I just pray she does well for the child:

The reason I’m unreconciled.

She refused the cost

And I wound up lost.

Half a spirit, struggling, alone in the wild.