The trouble with us all I think
Is that we’re standing on the brink
Perched above precariously
Without knowledge of history.
Those stories that we have been told
Are simply that, just tales of old
Sometimes I find myself entranced
With mysticism so enhanced !
Oh how I wish that I’d been there
When Rapunzel let down her hair,
Or hiding in the robber’s cave
Where Ali Baba was a knave.
Now Cinderella had it hard
To clean that house and tend the yard
Or do you think Snow White had worse
With all those dwarfs and witch’s curse ?
Today I find the world’s not changed
Some tales I hear are quite deranged
The problem is we’re told they’re true
What do you think, it’s up to you ?