“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! You’ve cut off your hair!
Your billowing tresses are no longer there.
That mohawk you’re sporting is spiky and pink.
I’m really not certain just what I should think.
“I came here expecting to clamber a braid,
ascending your tower to come to your aid.
Instead I have suffered the greatest of shocks
to find that you’ve cut off your lovely blonde locks.”
“Prince Charming, Prince Charming,” Rapunzel replied,
“I have no intention of being your bride.
We will not get married. We will not elope.
I’ve cut off my hair and I’ve braided a rope.
“You came here to visit me once every day,
and promised that soon you would take me away,
but you were too clueless to even conceive
of cutting my hair off so we could just leave.
“I cannot believe you were such a big dope.
I come and I go as I please with my rope.
And so, I’m afraid I can’t give you my hand.
In spite of the fabulous wedding you planned.”
From then on Rapunzel was known through the land.
She toured the world in a rock and roll band.
And silly Prince Charming, with rocks in his head,
rode off and got married to Snow White instead.
My aunt calls me “Elizabeth.”
My grandma calls me “Liz.”
My sister calls me “Lisa,”
and the baby calls me “Wiz.”
My uncle calls me “Betty,”
while my grandpa calls me “Beth.”
My brother calls me “Dizzy Liz”
or sometimes “Lizard Breath.”
My teacher calls me “Betsy”
and my friends all call me “Bess.”
I find these nicknames more annoying
than you’d ever guess.
I wish that they would call me
by my real name instead.
I simply HATE those nicknames;
see, my real name is Fred.
