Mothers of Step are more often then not,
A cruel, twisted and unpleasant lot.
This one was no exception to the rule,
And had two ugly daughters just as cruel.

Now, there lived another girl in the house,
Not quite pretty but not really a grouse.
And as it is in all stories of old,
Her sisters of step treated her like mould.

‘Clean this! Scrub that!’ they would shout,
While plucking hair out of their snouts.

Until one day arrived a gentleman tall,
And invited the family to a ball.
Leaving Cinderella killing rats in the hall,
The step-mother and sisters departed, jewels and all.

Cinderella left high and dry,
Sat down and began to cry.
‘Why does it always have to be me?’ she said,
‘Why isn’t it the brutes that suffer, in my stead?’

A passing fairy, who heard her weep,
Pulled over and jumped out of her jeep.
‘What’s wrong, my dear? Are you all right?’
‘It sounds like you’ve had quite a plight.’

‘All right?’ said Cindy, ‘Can’t you see?’
‘A disco at the palace is a matter of glee.’
‘Quick, I need a dress and shoes and oh … a ride,’
‘If the prince is to ever make me his bride.’

‘Hang on, I’ll get you to your gig,’
‘My My, aren’t you a greedy pig.’
The fairy waved her wand and disappeared,
But in her place stood all Cindy revered.

The gown was velvet, its bosom cropped,
But as she wore it, her eyes popped.
So tight was the garment, she could hardly draw breath,
‘At this rate, I shall soon be dead.’

She saw the slippers, made of glass,
‘Oh my God! Oh No! Alas!’
‘In those I shall never ever be able to walk’
But without the slippers I’ll look like a Croc.

Somehow, she squeezed her feet in the shoes,
Grinding her teeth she took a step or two.
‘A rich man, is all I want,’
‘Even if it kills me, I have to flaunt.’

Decked up, pretty and feeling hearty,
Cindy made an appearance at the party.
It made the ugly sisters wince,
To see Cindy dancing with the Prince.

Evening went, nightfall came,
So engrossed was Cindy in her fame,
That she didn’t notice the tower,
Promptly strike the midnight hour.

In a trice the dress vanished, the shoes were gone.
Cindy sighed, stretched, smiled and yawned.
‘Aah my rags, my lovely clothes,’
‘Forever now, I shall keep you close,’

‘Say what you will, dear Prince,’
‘That dress was really making me wince.’
‘Kill me now if you will, dear sisters,’
‘At least I will die without blisters.

The step ones gaped, they gawked,
One by one, all the other women began to squawk,
‘Oh dear Cindy, you do look relieved,’
‘We should take ours off too, I believe,’

One by one, everyone from Edinburgh to Bristol,
Took of their shoes made of glass and crystal.
‘Aaah my dear, I cannot tell,’
‘I haven’t ever felt my feet feeling so well.’

‘You’ve got the right idea dear Cindy,’
‘I think everyone should feel such glee,’
It was then that Cindy and her steps,
Had the idea and began to prep.

Soon in the town, there appeared,
A tiny shop called CindyWear.
It sold sensible clothes with grace,
Nothing that would make you blue in the face.

Every woman in the town,
Went there and bought herself a practical gown.
Cindy and her sisters grew rich,
As their lives went on without a hitch.




Categories: Children's 5-8, Children's 9-12, Children's Poetry, Humour, Stories, Uncategorized

2 Comments on “Cinderella”

  1. August 25, 2012 at 8:20 pm #

    hahaha!! What a great twist on a classic tale :) This was great!

  2. August 10, 2016 at 9:38 am #

    A fool must now and then be right by chance.

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