ONE

Beauty and the Beast

 

THREE

The Wild Swans

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 1987 by Harley White

All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

Floating Narrator
 
 
 

Once upon a time, in a land of here and there,

Lived a husbandman poor as poor could be.

From the morning light to the night-dark air,

He labored hard, unceasingly.

 

Now the farmer had been blessed with a conscientious wife

And sons and daughters numerous.

Still, only was life with poverty rife—

A situation not humorous.

 

Pretty children all were this couple’s brood—

The prettiest girl was the youngest one.

Her beauty was beyond comparison.

Her loveliness knew no magnitude.

Yes, they had great cause for gratitude—

But very little clothing or food.

And the sons’ and daughters’ attitude—

Although it seems a platitude—

Was most forbearing and subdued.

Except in moments of latitude.

 

 

 

 

 

“Not Enough”
Anne Lise, Brothers, and Sisters

 

 

Brothers and sisters have we plenty—

The sun, the moon, and stars on high.

Hours in the day we’ve four and twenty—

Mountains and trees and lots of sky.

People may call us ‘salt of the earth’

And say that our weight in gold we’re worth.

Then why are we feeling such a dearth?

 

We haven’t got enough— got enough.

There’s simply not enough— not enough.

The trouble isn’t that we’re never satisfied or insecure.

We haven’t got enough— got enough.

There’s simply not enough— not enough.

A double negative doesn’t make a positive when you’re poor.

 

Winters and summers have we many.

Autumn and spring are ours, it’s true.

But food and clothes we’ve scarcely any,

So time can be a bitter brew.

We try to be thankful and humane—

Our good nature always to retain.

Still once in a while we do complain.

 

We haven’t got enough— got enough.

There’s simply not enough— not enough.

The trouble isn’t that we’re never satisfied or insecure.

We haven’t got enough— got enough.

There’s simply not enough— not enough.

A double negative doesn’t make a positive when you’re poor.

 

Happiness can’t be bought with money.

Laughter and love, we know, are free.

Nevertheless it isn’t funny

To live and die in poverty.

We’re fortunate that we have our health—

Yet sometimes a wish we wish in stealth—

That we could have just a bit of wealth.

 

We haven’t got enough— got enough.

There’s simply not enough— not enough.

The trouble isn’t that we’re never satisfied or insecure.

We haven’t got enough— got enough.

There’s simply not enough— not enough.

A double negative doesn’t make a positive when you’re poor.

 

 

One day,— ‘twas a Thursday evening, I think—

Late at the autumn of the year,

A cruel storm, black as ink,

Swept upon the atmosphere.

 

Fists of rain pounded the land.

Winds did roar and rampage.

It seemed as though a giant hand

Had suddenly smashed a vial of rage.

 

The moon and stars, as if aghast,

Their nightly watch did overlook.

And with each wrathful violent blast,

The walls of the cottage groaned and shook.—

While the family, snug and occupied,

Were gathered round the fireside.

 

All at once was heard a clatter—

Tapping on the windowpane.

What on earth could be the matter?

It was not the wind or rain.

 

The father went outdoors to see

Whether anyone was there.

How astounded now was he

To behold a great White Bear!

 

“Good evening to you!” the White Bear said.

“And to you!” the man replied.

What he heard next went to his head

And left the farmer quite tongue-tied.

 

“Will you,” asked the White Bear, “give me

Your youngest daughter?  If you will,

I will make your family

Than poor you are richer still.”

 

Well, the man did have a predilection

To be rich, but still, he thought,

His daughter might raise some objection.—

To talk with her he really ought.

 

So in he went to tell them all

Of this most amazing news—

Just what fortune would befall,

If this Bear his daughter would choose.

 

“No!” the lassie said outright.

“Such a thing I’ll never do!

Have you lost your senses, Father?

We’ll stay poor— indeed, I’d rather!”

She would not be moved, despite

Persuasive talk and ballyhoo.

 

Taken aback by his daughter’s mettle,

The husbandman went outside then

With the huge White Bear to settle,

So that he would come again.

 

And he set Thursday evening next

As the time the Bear should return,

Saying the girl was now perplexed,

But then her answer he’d surely learn.

 

During the ensuing week,

The father sought to change her mind.

In urgent tones he did speak

Every inducement he could find.

 

 

 

“How Rich We’ll Be!”

Father

 

 

Think think think, my daughter, think.

Simply say the word and we’ll be living in the pink

And feasting on such dishes

As pheasant under glass.

Remember all your wishes—

They soon may come to pass.

 

Think think think, my daughter, think.

Just imagine all of the champagne that you can drink.

Gowns of satin, emerald green,

Would certainly look nice.

You’ll be living like a queen,

If you take my advice.

 

Think think think, my daughter, think.

All you have to do is flash a special little wink.

There’ll be servants there to care

For every single whim,

If you go with this White Bear

And merely stay with him.

 

How rich we’ll be,

Your mother and I!

We’ll live in style

And splendor.

Your family

How can you deny?

So give a smile

And surrender.

 

Think think think, my daughter, think.

You’ll wear ermine in the winter— and the finest mink—

Marble statues all around

And crystal chandeliers—

Golden carpets on the ground—

Wealth to endure your years.

 

Think think think, my daughter, think.

We can have it all before your eyes can blink a blink.

Not to do another chore

Or anything you hate—

Pearls and diamonds by the score—

Oh, what a happy fate!

 

Think think think, my daughter, think.

Surely from such lavish treasures you would never shrink.

We’re behind you all the way,

Wherever you may go.

I implore you now to say,

‘Yes,’ daughter dear, not ‘No.’

 

How rich we’ll be,

Your mother and I!

We’ll live in style

And splendor.

Your family

How can you deny?

So give a smile

And surrender.

 

 

At last the lassie came around

To her father’s point of view.

Her washed and mended rags she bound.—

There were pitifully few.

 

She tried her hardest to look smart

And with her bundle made ready to start—

Though not, I might add, with the lightest heart.

 

Thursday evening the White Bear came

The youngest daughter to fetch.

To climb atop his massive frame

She really had to stretch.

 

Then safely seated on his back—

Quite an accomplishment!—

With the little she’d been able to pack,

Finally off they went.

 

When they had gone a bit of the way,

The Bear asked, “Are you afraid?”

“No, that I am not,” she did say,—

For courage indeed had this fair maid.

“Well, mind and hold tight to my shaggy fur,

And there’s nothing to fear,” he said to her.

 

They traveled on and on and on.

The woods grew darker, dense and deep.

It seemed an endless way she’d gone,

When at last they came to a mountain steep.

 

Upon its face of solid rock,

The great White Bear gave a knock.

And all at once opened a door

Into the interior.

 

They went into a castle splendid

With many rooms— brilliantly lighted all;

And here it was her journey ended.

Down climbed the lassie in a large hall

Where there was a table, ready laid,

With a feast as grand as grand could be.

How magnificently was the castle arrayed—

Each floor, ceiling, and balustrade—

It would be hard to make anyone see!

 

She was given a silver bell by the Bear

And told, when she wanted anything

Immediately it would be there,

As soon as the bell she did ring.

 

When the girl had eaten and drunk her fill

And the evening hours had moved ahead,

Drowsiness overtook her, until

She thought she would like to go to bed.

 

Scarcely had she rung the bell,

When into a lovely chamber she came,

Furnished opulently, as well,

With a beautiful bed in golden frame.

By such lavish wealth— an incalculable sum—

Now the girl was indeed quite overcome.

 

 

 

 

 

“Gold and Silver”

Anne Lise

 

 

Gold and silver, silver and gold—

Brightly gleaming treasures untold—

Everywhere my eyes behold

Gold and silver, silver and gold.

 

Silken curtains, lacily fringed—

Satin pillows, rosily tinged—

Precious jewels a thousand-fold—

Gold and silver, silver and gold.

 

Once upon an evening star

I wished for riches— here they are.

Such a razzle-dazzle display

Takes a lassie’s breath away!

 

Velvet gowns embroidered with pearls,

Sure to wow the wealthiest girls—

What surprises life can hold—

Gold and silver, silver and gold!

 

 

But when she finally put out the light

And went to bed, her head in a whirl,

There came a man in the night

And laid himself alongside the girl.

 

Of course, we know it was the White Bear,

Who at night threw off his shape of a beast.

Yet of this the lassie was unaware,

For before the first pink appeared in the east

He was up and off in the predawn air.—

So she never saw him in the least.

And every night this did recur—

A source of bewilderment to her.

 

Things went on happily for a time.—

One would think her life would have been sublime,

Surrounded by a plethora of treasures.

Still, soon this wealth could provide no pleasures.

 

She missed her father and her mother

And was homesick for each sister and brother.

Her thoughts returned to her humble past,

Till silent and sorrowful she became at last.

 

 

One day, when the White Bear asked what she lacked,

The girl tried her best to answer, with tact,

That it was dull to have to roam

About by herself in this mountain home;

And she missed her family sorely, a fact

She tried to hide.— Nevertheless,

It was causing her great unhappiness.

 

“Well, well, perhaps there’s a simple cure,”

Said the Bear to the girl, “for all of this.

I could take you to see them, provided you’re

Willing and able one thing to promise—

Not to talk with your mother alone.

She’ll speak in a most cajoling tone

And try to lead you away from the rest.

But if you give in to her request,

The aftermath will be ruinous

And bring bad luck on both of us.”

 

She agreed to that.  And so, one day,

As I remember, ‘twas a Sunday,—

The White Bear came and said to her then

That they could start upon their way

And go to see her family again.

 

Well, off they went, the girl on his back,—

By now, you see, she’d mastered the knack.

They journeyed ever so long and far,

Till at last, at a house spectacular,

The White Bear came to a stop

And down to the ground the girl did hop.

 

Her brothers and sisters, carefree and gay,

Were running about out-of-doors at play.

Everything was adorned so prettily

That it was truly a joy to see.

 

Said the Bear, “This is where your parents now dwell,

But remember when you’re in their company

All that I told you before as well,

Or you’ll do much harm to yourself and me.”

No, bless her, she’d not forget.  So the Bear

Turned right about and left her there.

 

 

When into the house the lassie went

Her mother and father then to see,

There seemed no end to the merriment,

As they embraced her gratefully.

 

Such rejoicings filled the happy air!

They thanked their daughter over and over,

For due to her and the White Bear

The family certainly was in clover.

 

Yes, they had everything they wanted now.—

With showing and telling all was abuzz.

Next, they began to ask her how

She was getting on where she was.

 

The girl said things were fine with her, too.—

She had all she wished where she did live.

What other answers she gave were few

And I don’t think very informative.

 

No, the family could not get much out of her,

Though their questions become more politic.

The specifics they simply had to infer.

And none of them had the right end of the stick.

 

But after dinner, in the late afternoon,

All happened just as the White Bear had said.

The mother began to importune

The girl and would not be quieted.

 

She wanted with her daughter to chat

Upstairs in her bedchamber alone.

The girl remembered the Bear’s caveat

And the meeting did postpone.

 

“Oh, what we have to say can wait,”

She said, to hold her mother at bay.

Yet, this woman let’s don’t underestimate.—

She got around her anyway.

 

Then, by herself with her mother at last,

The girl felt an urge to confide

The details of her recent past

In the castle where now she did reside.

 

To tell the whole story she began—

How after she went to bed at night

There came and lay down beside her a man,

Who rose before the morning light.

And she never saw him, the girl did remark,

For he was there only when it was dark.

 

All day she went about full of woe,

Wanting— desiring secretly

His form and face but to know.—

In truth, this man she should like to see.

 

Yes, the girl proceeded to make a clean breast

Of everything— and for the rest,

She told how dreary, dull, and gray

She found each solitary day.—

I think that’s all that she did say.

 

 

 

“Oh No!  Oh Horrors!  Oh Dear!”

Mother

 

 

Oh no!  Oh horrors!  Oh dear!

You’re sleeping with a troll, I fear.

What a shame!  We’re humiliated!

Our good name is contaminated!

 

Oh no!  Oh horrors!  Oh dear!

And what if the neighbors should hear?!

Not a fortifying thought—

Such a mortifying thought!

 

Oh no!  Oh horrors!  Oh dear!

It’s base— a disgrace— worse than queer!

I’m not one to disparage marriage.

But this match would be a miscarriage!

 

What I say to you now is for your own good.

So furrow your brow, but do what you should!

If you’ve been consorting with a troll some,

I’m telling you— it isn’t wholesome!

 

He will only bruise you, amuse you, confuse you!

Leave you lonely, use you, accuse you, abuse you!

It’s time to put him to the test.

In this situation mother knows best,

My sweet innocent darling daughter!

I’ve got to make her do what she ought-‘er’!

 

Oh yes!  Just listen, my dear!

Things aren’t as bad as they may appear.

There’s a way to shed some light

Upon the subject tonight!

 

Take heart!  Don’t worry, my dear.

It’s easy to make matters clear.

A bit of candle, discreetly hidden,

Will show you the fruit that’s been forbidden!

 

Observe him closely, my dear!

You know what I say is sincere.

For a mother’s love is deep not shallow

But take care not to drop the tallow

On him as he’s sleeping—

Or you may wind up weeping!

 

Far be it from me to live your life—

But how can I see you be a troll’s wife?!

Over my dead body

Will she stoop to one so shoddy!

 

So luck be with you, my dear!

I shan’t in the least interfere.

We’ve always taught you right from wrong—

To be a good girl— in virtue strong.

Yet by a troll you’ve been beguiled.

In many ways you’re still a child

And need a mother’s helping hand.

There’s much you do not understand.

 

Just take this candle now.  Hide it well!

And remember, dear daughter— Don’t tell!!!

 

 

And so the girl the candle took

And carefully in her bosom hid it,

Thinking at the man to have a look.—

Yes, she’d feel better after she did it.

 

As night drew near, the Bear did return

The lassie now to fetch away

From her very short sojourn,

That had lasted but a day.

 

Onto his back she did climb

And they set off quickly then

Into the woods.  It was time

To return to the castle again.

 

The moon and stars overhead

The travelers brightly shone upon;

And after awhile, the White Bear said

He wondered how the visit had gone.

 

Had things happened during her stay

That evening as he did foretell?

And the lassie answered, Well,

That they had not she couldn’t say.

 

“Now mind,” said he, “if you have listened

To your mother, privately,”—

The stars above them winked and glistened—

“Upon us you’ve brought great misery.”

 

“No,” said the lassie to the Bear,

With the moon’s clear gaze witnessing

As they journeyed on through the still night air,

“I haven’t listened to a thing.”

 

At length they reached the mountain which did the castle hide,

And knocking on it once again the Bear took her inside.

 

Then the lassie went to bed, tired from the day.—

Very soon there came a man and down beside her lay.

 

But when she heard that he slept

In the dead of night

Cautiously out of bed she crept

And kindled a little light.

 

At once the girl the candle lit.

It cast a halo glow

Upon the most exquisite

Prince her eyes would ever know.

 

Such loveliness her mind amazed!

In the luminescence soft

She stood transfixed and at him gazed,

The burning candle held aloft.

 

 

 

“Dumbfounded”

Anne Lise

 

 

Dumbfounded— What do I do?

I’m dumbfounded and drawn to you.

I feel so helpless— don’t know why

Suddenly I seem so shy.

 

I’m dumbfounded and mystified,

So dumbfounded my tongue is tied.

I’m at a loss to understand

In this strange and wondrous land.

 

Because you’ve turned me topsy-turvy, inside out.

I just don’t know what this is all about,

Except I’ve never been so

 

Dumbfounded— It’s bound to show.

I’m dumbfounded.  How could I know

That love would catch me unaware?

I can’t help it if I stare.

 

I’m so dumbfounded.

So very dumbfounded.

I’m just so dumbfounded.

Dumbfounded—

 

 

Indeed, the girl was swept sky-high

With blissful ecstasy.

Such rapture as hers does defy

Poetic imagery.

 

She fell in love on the spot

So deeply, she could swear

That she must die if she did not

Kiss him then and there.

 

And so she kissed him tenderly

Upon his rosy lips.

But bending down, she failed to see

The candle drop three drips.

 

The tallow fell upon his shirt.

The startled Prince awoke.

And now his voice, choked with hurt,

The nightlong silence broke:

“What have you done?”  Alas, his pain

Pricked her heart like spears.

And as the spell he did explain,

The girl’s eyes brimmed with tears.

 

 

 

“If Only”

Prince

 

 

My stepmother bewitched me—

And so the spell began.

By day a White Bear is what you see—

By night I am a man.

 

In one year’s time I’d have been freed

From this miserable curse.

But now I must leave with all due speed—

And what is worse—

I have to go from you to her—

Never did I know such joys there were.

 

Yet the love we found—

A love that has barely begun—

Is ended… so soon—

For to her I’m bound

In the castle east of the sun

And west of the moon.

 

And I mustn’t tarry.

A Princess with a nose

Three ells long awaits.

‘Tis her I’m to marry—

So the spell did impose.

Who can cheat the Fates?

 

 

   Anne Lise:          But can’t I go with you?

   Prince:                 No, you can not.

   Anne Lise:        Then tell me the way to this sinister spot.

I’ll search till I find it—

That surely I may do—

And I’ll never mind it,

If one day I’m with you.

 

   Prince:               Yes, that you may try,

But I warn you, my dear,

You’ll see by and by

That it’s hopeless, I fear.

This destiny grave

We can never erase.

My life you can’t save—

For you won’t find this place.

 

Though east of the sun and west of the moon

must be somewhere,

They say it’s impossible to discover the way there.

 

So all between us is over now.

If only you could have kept your vow—

 

If only you’d stated

How darkness you hated

And not vacillated,

I could have been free.

But you hesitated,

When intimidated,

To be liberated

And broke trust with me.

 

If only you’d waited

The year that was slated,

Laid down and dictated,

Unalterably—

Time would have abated

The fate I was fated.

Love could have created

A new destiny.

 

Now gone is every hope and dream.

No dawn can break.  No moon can beam.

Each star has lost its silver glow,

For far from you I have to go.

 

If only you’d stayed

You could not have been swayed

By your mother’s tirade.—

If I’d only been smart!

If you had been there

For me as a White Bear,

I’d have felt you could care

For me right from the start.

 

If only tonight

You had not lit the light

Of your doubt and your fright,

We would not need to part.

If only your eyes

Had seen through my disguise—

Oh, if you had been wise,

You’d have followed your heart.

 

Now gone is every hope and dream.

No dawn can break.  No moon can beam.

Each star has lost its silver glow,

For far from you I have to go.

 

 

Next morning when the girl awakened, to her dismay

Both the Prince and castle had vanished from sight.

She shook her head sadly, blinking at the day

And thinking with horror of the previous night.

 

In the midst of a gloomy thick dark wood

On a little green patch there she was— all alone.

The lassie despaired that ever she could

For what she had done hope to atone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 By her side the same bundle of rags did lie

That from her old home she had brought.

The girl turned her vision up to the sky,

As though some consoling spirit she sought.

 

 

 

“East of the Sun and West of the Moon”

Anne Lise

 

 

East of the sun and west of the moon 

Is where I must go,

For the love I won and lost so soon

Is there I know.

 

East of the sun and west of the moon,

Where there’s a will there’s a way.

I’ll know no rest from this lonely quest

Till I’m with my love someday.

 

Though now winds of pain blow

In fierce storms of sorrow,

Somehow there’ll be a rainbow

Shining for me tomorrow.

 

East of the sun and west of the moon—

How I long to see

That strange and wondrous land

Where my love waits for me!

 

 

So the lassie set out in the chill morning air,

On a path through the thicket with shrubbery strewn,

To find the Prince at a castle somewhere

East of the sun and west of the moon.

 

She walked for days and days and days

A trail fraught with forks and bends,

With the silver beams and the golden rays

Of the moon and the sun her only friends.

 

The girl grew weary, yet on she went;

Her tired footsteps began to lag.

And then, to her astonishment,

She came upon a majestic crag

Under which there sat an aged hag.

Framed by this lofty mountain peak,

The woman seemed shrouded in mystique.

 

The lassie came closer and, strange to say—

For what her eyes saw she did doubt—

The hag was happily at play

With a golden apple she tossed about.

 

The girl plucked up her nerve and soon

Asked the hag if she knew the way

To the Prince who now was forced to stay

With his stepmother in a castle that lay

East of the sun and west of the moon.

“I must hurry,” she added, to make her cause strong.—

“He’s to marry a Princess with a nose three ells long!”

 

The old woman asked, “How do you know of him?

Maybe you are the lassie the Prince ought to wed?”

“That I am!” said the girl, as with hope she did brim,

For the hag must be wise her wish to have read.

 

“So it’s you,” she continued.  “Well, all that I know

Is he lives in the castle of which you did speak.

They say it’s a long long way you must go—

If ever you get there.— Your prospects are bleak.”

 

“Still, my horse you may borrow and ride thereupon

To my neighbor,” the hag did volunteer.

“She may know.  When you get there, the horse will ‘begone’

If you give it a switch under its left ear

And bid it go home.— Yet stay, I have here

A gift of great value, tried and true.—

You may take this golden apple with you.”

 

“But,” the lassie demurred to the hag, “are you sure?

To give me an apple of gold so pure,

When I’ve already lost all I had, you see,

By acting so rashly and stupidly.”

 

Still, the woman proffered the gift anew,

Saying, “With this apple I give to you

These golden words which never will prove

To be false, and remorse they will remove.”

 

 

 

“Guilt will Wilt the Sweetest Flower”

Hag #1

 

 

Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,

Cause the very sun to glower,

Though the skies their tears may shower.

Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.

 

Shame will tame the lion’s power,

Make the boldest warrior cower,

Turn the taste of triumph sour.

Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.

 

For each mister, miss, or madam,

Son or lover— this is so.

In the Bible Eve and Adam

Did discover long ago…

 

That guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,

Steal the pleasure from the hour,

Even in the greenest bower—

Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.

 

 

So the lassie upon the horse did climb

And set off into the woods again.

She rode a wearisome long long time

Through many a canyon and rustic glen.

 

Days did break and nights did fall.

The journey seemed an endless wait.

Trees passed by in procession tall.—

Still the horse continued its steady gait.

 

At last, a crag she did behold—

Or a mountain, if you prefer,—

Under which was seated a woman old—

A very welcome sight to her!

 

The hag had something made of gold,

In fact, it was a carding comb.

The lassie did as she’d been told

And bid the horse depart for home.

 

Then of the woman she inquired

Whether she knew the way to the Prince.

No longer did the girl feel tired,

For fortitude she’d found long since.

 

The hag knew nothing more or less.—

She answered as her neighbor had.

Then, showing the same helpfulness,

She also said that she’d be glad

To lend the girl her horse to ride

To a neighbor in the countryside,

Who, perhaps, her course could guide.

 

The woman then the lassie told

To take the carding comb of gold.

And she did add, with emphasis,

“For you may find some use for this!”

 

The girl felt that she should decline.

“You see,” she said, “the fault is mine

That he did get into this mess.

In truth, to you I must confess

I wish that someone better somehow

Than just myself could help him now.”

 

The woman to the girl now came quite near

And the carding comb put in her hand.

Said the hag, “These words you need to hear

And more— must try to understand:

Never should gold discarded be,

Though its container is soiled,” quoth she.

 

Her eyes, then, with a twinkle beamed,

And for a moment or two it seemed

All traces of old age had gone.—

She became spryer than a fawn!

 

 

 

“Get out of ‘de’ Basement”

Hag #2

 

 

Get out of ‘de’ basement of self debasement.

‘Just yourself’ is really so much more.

Get out of ‘de’ basement of self debasement.

Trust yourself and feel your spirits soar.

 

Get out of ‘de’ basement of self debasement.

Keep defeat out of ‘de’ feet.

Get out of ‘de’ basement of self debasement.

With your human dignity— compete.

 

Get out of ‘de’ basement of self debasement.

Seek the truth immanent within.

Get out of ‘de’ basement of self debasement.

Fight for what you love and win.

 

 

Well, the lassie proceeded upon the horse,

And— lest this is sounding repetitious,

Had she any other recourse

To try to seek some sign auspicious?—

 

She traveled on through the thick forest growth.

One day into another did merge.

The horse and rider grew weary both

And to stop and rest did feel the urge.

 

Yet she pressed on to reach her goal

And finally came to a mountain top.

The journey had surely taken its toll

When at last the girl was able to stop.

 

Another hag— yes, you know the beginning—

Seemed to be doing something like spinning.

And closer inspection did reveal

That she had a golden spinning wheel.

 

The lassie approached the hag— the third one—

And asked her if she could disclose

The whereabouts of east of the sun

And west of the moon, for a spell did impose

That the Prince in the castle there— so it goes—

Was to marry the Princess with the long nose.

 

The hag’s reply was much the same—

She’d heard of the place where he did dwell,

But how to get there she could not tell.

And she asked the lassie how she came

To know this certain Prince so well.

“Perhaps you ought to have had him.”  “Yes,”

The girl replied with candidness.

 

She offered to lend her horse— this time

To ride to the East Wind, saying, “I’m

Not the one directions to give,

But perhaps he knows where the Prince does live.”

 

Then, the spinning wheel she offered her

And wanted the girl this gift to take.

Said the hag, “Who knows what might occur?—

Perhaps, some use of it you can make.”

 

The lassie responded that she’d better not.

Her courage now she quite forgot.

“This gift will only be wasted on me,

For I may never find the Prince, you see.”

 

The hag replied to the girl distraught,

As the spinning wheel she did extend.

“To failure you mustn’t give a thought.

This golden gift will be your friend.

It will remind you high hopes to enjoy

And always the strategy of faith to employ.”

 

Then the lassie spoke, “What you say sounds fine,

But what do I do to get rid of my doubt?

It seems to be something I’m seldom without.”

Said the hag, “Here’s what I did to get rid of mine.”

 

 

 

“Am–Scram”

Hag #3

 

 

I used to cuddle up with doubt—

I’d really huddle up with doubt—

And always muddle up with doubt—

It made me so uptight.

 

My doubt would get the best of me—

It soon would make a pest of me—

And swallow up the rest of me—

Until I saw the light.

 

‘Doubt,’ I said, ‘you’re rotten to the core.

Never again will you darken my door.’

 

Am–scram!  Beat it, doubt!  Scat!  Skidoo!

Vamoose!  Doubt, skedaddle!  Shoo!  Shoo!  Shoo!

Am–scram!  Beat it, doubt!  Scat!  Skidoo!

Vamoose!  Doubt, skedaddle!  Who needs you?!

 

 

Once again on horseback continued the lassie,

In search of adventures unforeseen.

She passed through streams banked with grassy

Sylvan glades of leafy green—

 

And onward into denser lands

With tangled trees in verdant groves,

Where Nature reigned with doting hands

Over her earthly treasure troves.

 

Though the journey was long and wearisome,

The gifts provided inspiration;

And the girl found that she had become

Unwavering in her determination.

 

 

And so, in this manner the girl traveled on

With her spinning wheel, apple, and carding comb.

At long long last the day did dawn

When she found she’d arrived at the East Wind’s home.

 

The horse she sent off to the hag as before;

And the girl must have felt a bit timid as now

She ventured to knock upon the door,

In hopes that this wind could help her somehow.

 

When the East Wind appeared— He was friendly enough—

The girl asked him all that she wanted to know.

In words that seemed to come out in a puff

He answered— or blew, to be apropos.

 

Yes, he’d heard tell of this castle mysterious,

But its location he’d never known;

And to make such a journey was a matter serious—

Indeed, so far he had never blown.

 

“Yet,” he said to the lassie, “there still is another

Who’s stronger than I, so don’t despair.

The West Wind may know, and he is my brother.

If you climb on my back, I’ll take you there.”

 

Well, the girl did just that, and off they did go.

Then so briskly did the East wind blow

One can only suppose how she must have felt,

As into the ether she seemed to melt.

 

 

 

“Wind Song”— Segment 1

 

 

                        Vicissitudes—

                                                                                  Vicissitudes—

                                   Vicissitudes—

                                                                                              Vicissitudes—

                                               Vicissitudes—

                                                                                                          Vicissitudes—

 

                        Vicissitudes—

                                                                                  Vicissitudes—

                                   Vicissitudes—

                                                                                              Vicissitudes—

                                               Vicissitudes—

                                                                                                          Vicissitudes—

 

Fly upon the wings of the wind,

In icy blasts that bellow and blow.

On the wild wild wings of the wind

To your love you must go.

 

Fly upon the wings of the wind,

In sobbing storms that shiver and moan.

A child’s will is the wind’s will,

But a woman’s will is her own.

 

 

When they came to the house of the Wind of the West,

With the girl the East Wind went inside

To explain to his brother her request

And how she had come on his back to ride—

 

To this castle did he know the way?

The wind, in a voice like a gust, answered, “Nay,

So far as that I have never gone.

Still, more powerful is the South Wind than we.”

To the lassie he said, “If you climb upon

My back, I will blow you to him with me.”

 

Well, the girl quickly did as he had advised her—

You could say that courage characterized her;—

And with love for the Prince strong in her breast,

Away she rode on the Wind of the West.

 

 

 

“Wind Song”— Segment 2

 

 

Turbulent times, bitter with strife,

May seem to pursue you through your life.

Still when all is seen and understood,

Even ill winds will blow some good.

 

 

It was not very long that the girl was in flight

Before they arrived at their destination

And came to a stop.  She then did alight

With the South Wind to have a conversation.

 

By now you can guess how things did proceed.—

The West Wind asked his brother—indeed

Whether the way he could tell

To the castle where the Prince did dwell.

The West Wind added, “For he ought to marry

This very lassie whom I did carry.”

 

“Well, well,” said the South Wind, “so she is the one.

In my time I have surely blustered around,

But not so far as east of the sun

And west of the moon.  No, that I’ve not found.”

 

Then he spoke to the lassie, “Still if you will,

I’ll take you on our brother to call.

Perhaps your request the North Wind can fill,

For he is the strongest one of us all—

And if he can’t tell you, in truth it is so

That there’s no one else in the world who would know.”

 

So the lassie climbed on his back in a hurry,

And off the South Wind blew in a flurry.

 

 

 

“Wind Song”— Segment 3

 

 

He who does his own house trouble

Shall the wind inherit— double.

And the fool who’ll keep lovers apart

Shall be servant to the wise of heart.

 

 

Before the South Wind and the lassie

To the North Wind’s house came near,

Furious gusts, wild and brassy,

From his dwelling they could hear.

 

The sound of his voice in a massive bellow,

With cold huffs and puffs arose.—

This was not a mellow fellow.

Truly, the very air he froze.

 

“Blast you both, what do you want?!” he roared.—

And, indeed, the clouds did quiver.

His breath was like an icy sword

That even made the South Wind shiver.

 

Yet he answered, “It’s your brother from the south,

And though you’re in a rotten mood

You needn’t have such a foul mouth

Or to this lassie be so rude.”

 

He continued, “For its love that compels

This girl to seek a special boon.

She should have had the Prince who dwells

East of the sun and west of the moon.”

 

“She wants to ask you if you know

The way there and would be so kind

As to tell her how to go

To this castle the Prince to find.”

 

“Yes,” said the North Wind, “I do know where

That place can be found.  Long ago

An aspen leaf I once blew there,

But for ever so many days after, I swear

I was so tired I could not blow.”

 

Still, to the girl this offer he made:

“If to go with me you’re not afraid—

For courage you don’t seem to lack—

I’ll try to take you there on my back.”

 

The lassie responded— go she must,

No matter what might her befall.

And however madly he did gust

She wouldn’t have any fear at all.

 

“Very well then,” the North Wind said,

“But first you must sleep here tonight;

For we’ll need to have the whole day ahead

To attempt such a long and relentless flight.”

 

Next morning the North Wind the girl awoke

And not a word to her he spoke,

But he puffed himself up with all his might—

Yes, he huffed and puffed and blew himself out,

Until he’d become frightfully stout.

In truth, he was a gruesome sight!

 

Then, high up into the air they went—

Over land and sea they fairly did soar.

It seemed as though the North Wind was bent

On reaching the world’s end— and would stop nevermore.

 

Tracts of woods and houses were felled by the gale;

And when over the sea he happened to blow,

Ships by the hundreds did founder and fail—

Such a terrible storm there was down below!

 

 

 

“Wind Song”— Segment 4

 

 

Fly upon the wings of the wind,

In icy blasts that bellow and blow.

On the wild wild wings of the wind

To your love you must go.

 

Fly upon the wings of the wind,

In sobbing storms that shiver and moan.

A child’s will is the wind’s will,

But a woman’s will is her own.

 

 

Thus on and on and on they tore.—

No one ever before such a journey did make!—

The North Wind seemed the heavens to quake.

Huge ocean waves did beneath him break,

As he streaked through the sky like a meteor,

Leaving destruction in his wake.

 

Finally, more and more weary the North Wind grew,—

Still, on he continued doggedly.

His breath in such tiny puffs he blew

That it seemed they might sink into the sea.

 

Lower and lower his wings did droop,

Till the crests of the waves did his heels pelt

And above the ocean he barely could swoop.—

Who can imagine how that must have felt?!

 

Splashes of foam did around them swirl,

As on the exhausted North Wind flew.

“Art thou afraid?” he asked the girl.

“No,” she replied.— And it was true.

 

 

 

“Wind Song”— Segment 5

 

 

If you are wise, you’ll ride the winds

And not be carried away.

Through censure, praise, honor, disgrace,

The smile on your face

Can basically stay.

 

If you’re determined to stand alone,

Your life you won’t begrudge.

In winds of prosperity or decline

You’ll keep your convictions and never budge.

 

If you have faith to brave the storms

And do not sway or bend

When winds of pleasure and suffering blow,

You’ll see— you’ll be a winner in the end.

 

If you have faith— unshakable faith—

If you have faith— unbreakable faith—

If you have faith— unfakable faith—

You’ll see— you’ll be a winner in the end.

 

 

Reprise— “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”

 

 

 

 

 

As you may remember, the lassie we left

Riding the North Wind over the sea;

While of strength he’d become quite bereft

And was close to sinking perilously.

 

Now he managed to gasp out just enough

Breath— all he had was the tiniest puff—

To cast the girl upon the shore

East of the sun and west of the moon,

Where, worn-out, he fell in a swoon.—

And it was many days before

The North Wind recovered his gusty roar

And was able to blow himself home once more.

 

Meanwhile, the lassie stood on the beach.—

Here was the place she’d been longing to reach.

Yet she had no time to feel satisfied,

For the very landscape exuded dread.

She saw the castle just ahead

And knew the Prince must be inside.

 

Night was falling swiftly, so

The girl sat down just below

The castle windows.  She was weary.

Then all at once arose an eerie

Plaintive sound in a surge

Like the singing of a dirge.

 

 

 

“All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here”

Trolls

 

 

All hope abandon, ye who enter here.

The paths of darkness all feet shall tread.

For shadows follow where the trolls appear.

This land inclineth unto the dead.

 

 

Anne Lise

 

 

I’ll be a tower firmly set in faith,

That will not topple though winds may blast.

Who need be fearful of a trollish wraith?

I’ll free my lover at long long last.

 

 

Now the girl lay down by the castle wall,

Thinking of the Prince whom she yearned to see.

Soon, deep into slumber she did fall;—

And overhead, protectively,

The moon and stars a vigil kept

In the heavens above, while the lassie slept.

 

The Trolls, meantime, were on the prowl

In parts of the kingdom various.

With ghoulish glee, how they did howl,

In a manner most nefarious!—

 

Some whirling in a dervish trance,

A madcap caper they did dance.

So were the Trolls, till break of day,

Absorbed in their demonic play.

 

 

 

“Troll Song”

Trolls

 

 

We are the tintinnabulating trolls

To the rock rock bottom of our nonexistent souls.

Madder than the maddest hatter,

Hear us bellow, bray, and bleat;

And we prattle pitter-patter

In our jabberwocky chatter

To a bumbulating beat.

See us zim zam zoom

As we’re going bim bam boom

In an onomatopoeia that so rhythmically rolls.

We’re the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.

We’re the truly tintinnabulating trolls.

 

We are the tintinnabulating trolls

With our xenophobic hearts lit like black burning coals.

Hate and anger are our teachers

So we squabble, squeal, and squirm.

We are misbegotten creatures—

With the ugliest of features—

Lower than the lowest worm.

In these premises

We’re unrivaled nemeses;

And we burrow furrow mindless like some misanthropic moles.

We’re the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.

We’re the truly tintinnabulating trolls.

 

We are the tintinnabulating trolls

From compassion and goodness we’re at opposite poles—

So devoid of any scruples.

On stupidity we feed.

As our villainy quadruples

We’re the most attentive pupils

To insatiable greed.

See us bash bing bang.

Hear us clatter clash cling clang

As we crash upon the shallows of malevolented shoals.

We’re the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.

We’re the truly tintinnabulating trolls.

 

We’re the trolls trolls trolls,

The incorrigible trolls.

We’re the trolls trolls trolls.

We’re the horrigible trolls.

We’re the irritating, aggravating, fascinating trolls.

We’re the wrangulating, jangulating, strangulating trolls.

We’re the trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls trolls.

We’re the truly tintinnabulating trolls.

 

 

The lassie awakened in the morning,

Feeling rested through and through.

The sun streamed down, the day adorning,

In a cloudless sky of azure blue.

 

She began to play with the golden apple,

Feeling drawn to the castle windows above,

As now with her problem she started to grapple—

How to find the Prince whom she did love.

 

All at once to her horror and delight,

She saw a most peculiar sight.

In the window appeared— who do you suppose?—

The Princess, in truth, with the long long nose.

 

“How much do you want for that gold apple, girl?”

The questions she did rudely hurl.

The lassie replied, “It’s not for sale.

Neither gold nor money will avail.”

 

The long-nose asked, “Then what will suffice?

If not for money or gold will you sell it,

You may go ahead and name your own price.”

And so the lassie proceeded to tell it.

 

“Well, if I may go to the Prince who is here,”

Answered she, “and be with him tonight,

You shall have it.”— From her face it was clear

That this Princess for gold had a huge appetite.

 

“Yes, that I certainly can arrange,”

The long-nose said, with a sort of smirk;—

For she had decided the girl to shortchange,

And her mind on a venomous plan was at work.

 

So the Princess the golden apple did get,

And when night came around she paid her debt.

The lassie indeed saw the Prince, except

He didn’t see her, for he soundly slept.

 

 

 

“Awaken”

Anne Lise

(sung for two consecutive nights)

 

 

Awaken, awaken, awaken, awaken,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

Oh, open your eyes, your dear eyes, your sweet eyes.  Oh,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

 

Now that you’re near to me,

Everything’s clear to me.

You are so dear to me—

More than I knew.

 

My heart’s overflowing

With love that is growing.

Somehow I keep knowing

You must feel it, too.

 

Awaken, awaken, awaken, awaken,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

Oh, open your eyes, your dear eyes, your sweet eyes.  Oh,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

 

It hurts me so badly

To love you so madly,

Yet see you so sadly

Entrapped in this spell.

 

Although I may weep now

Because you’re asleep now,

My love is so deep now

That all will be well.

 

Awaken, awaken, awaken, awaken,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

Oh, open your eyes, your dear eyes, your sweet eyes.  Oh,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

 

I so long to see you

Be happy— to free you—

Dear one.  Hear my plea— you

Must open your eyes.

 

Your love I have taken,

All others forsaken.

Please won’t you awaken

Before the sunrise?

 

Awaken, awaken, awaken, awaken,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

Oh, open your eyes, your dear eyes, your sweet eyes.  Oh,

Awaken, my love, to my lo-o-o-ove.

 

 

Alas, the poor girl the whole night long

Did plead, in desperation great.

She shook the Prince, with vigor strong,

But nothing his sleep could penetrate.

 

When morning came, so did the Princess, too;—

Oh, she had a long and ugly snout!—

And to add to the lassie’s how-do-you-do,

She now proceeded to drive her out.

 

Then alone again with the sleeping Prince,

In a manner brazen, brash, and bold,

The long-nosed Princess did evince

How over him she maintained her hold.

 

 

 

“My Octopus Grip”

Nozelle

 

 

I’ve got him in my octopus grip—

My octopus grip— my octopus grip.

He’ll never ever give me the slip—

Of that I will make certain.

 

I’ll keep him in my strangle hold—

My strangle hold— my strangle hold—

Trapped behind each gilded fold

Of my little iron curtain.

 

Each night I’ll catch him in my web

Of doubt, depression, guilt, and fear.

Each day I’ll surround him with the most

Self debasing atmosphere.

By now I think it must be clear,

I’ll do anything to keep him here.

 

I will tell him that I love him

And that he should grateful be.

I will put myself above him,

So he will think he needs me.

 

If he tries to run away,

I have ways to make him stay

And smash his hopes to smithereens.

The end does justify the means.

 

For Nozelle is my name.

My proboscis has great fame.

With my very protuberant snout

I can always sniff him out

In case he happens to be a rover.

I’ll tie him down till hell freezes over—

Attach myself like a venomous asp

To keep him in my vise-like grasp.

 

If the Prince ever does rebel,

My sleeping-drink his spirit will quell.

I have potions by the oceans—

Zombie lotions for all emotions—

Drinks that can alter his awareness—

So he thinks foul is fairness—

Feels that I’m sweetly mothering him,

While in fact I’m smothering him.

 

I have draughts to debilitate him—

Or perhaps to emasculate him—

If worst comes to worst, to castrate him.

 

What a mulish witch I am!

What a ghoulish bitch I am!

 

Oh, Nozelle, how evil you are!

Evil as a weevil you are!

Oh, Nozelle, you devil— you!

Who could ever level you?!

Oh, Nozelle, you’re so slick!

You’ve even convinced him that he’s sick!

You see, I do know every trick!

 

I’ve got him in my octopus grip—

My octopus grip— my octopus grip.

He’ll never ever give me the slip—

Of that I will make certain.

 

I’ll keep him in my strangle hold—

My strangle hold— my strangle hold—

Trapped behind each gilded fold

Of my little iron curtain.

 

Hooked upon the specious gold—

Gilt with guilt a thousand fold—

Trapped behind each gilded fold

Of my little iron curtain.

 

 

Outside the castle, the lassie sat,

Searching for some inspiration.

And, turning over this and that,

Her mind was lost in concentration.

 

At length the girl began to card

With the golden carding comb;

And soon the Princess did her regard,

From the window near the castle dome.

 

In the tone of an inquisitor

The long-nose asked what she wanted for

The carding comb.  Without a thought,

The girl replied that it couldn’t be bought

For gold or money.  All she would take

Was a night with the Prince.  That bargain she’d make.

 

As before, the Princess bit the bait

And got the comb.  The girl she told

That when the evening had grown late

She’d fetch her then the Prince to behold.—

Yes, she could spend the night with him

And satisfy her silly whim.

 

Well, the lassie wasn’t sure what to think.

Meanwhile, the Prince, sad to say,

Was given a powerful sleeping-drink

By the long-nose;— then she went away.

 

Alas, the Prince had no protection.—

Who can describe his utter dejection,

As he felt his very life force ebb

And was caught in the Princess’s wicked web?!

 

 

 

Now the lassie was let into the room

With the Prince.  The long-nose left her there.

With hope once again her heart did bloom—

For how could she know of his deep despair?

 

The Prince slept soundly on his bed.

The girl came near and lovingly stood

Beside him.— The whole night lay ahead.—

She must arouse him.— If only she could!

 

 

Reprise—“Awaken”

 

 

Once again, the lassie’s pleas were all in vain.

Though she shook him and called him the whole night through,

Still the Prince did remain under Sleep’s sovereign reign.—

Oh, how her heart ached and ached anew!

 

At the peep of dawn, came the Princess long-nose

And chased the girl out of the room.

And though her demeanor she did compose,

Inside the lassie was filled with gloom.

 

But the Princess could hardly contain her spite.

As she kept an eye on the Prince who still slumbered,

She strutted about like an evil sprite—

Or, more fittingly, one could say she lumbered.

 

 

 

Well, by now the lassie was quite perplexed

And rapidly feeling more and more vexed,

As she wondered what on earth to do next.

 

Of her golden gifts there remained only one—

A thought that caused the girl chagrin.

If she gave that away,

Then there would be none.—

And just suppose she didn’t win?

 

After all, she had taken a terrible chance

The Prince to pursue so long and far.

Perhaps, indeed, this strange romance

Had been born under an unlucky star.

 

To be sure, the long-nose was very shrewd.—

So the lassie continued her introspection

And began to examine her own attitude,

As this seemed a good moment for self reflection.

 

 

 

“I’ll Stand Alone”

Anne Lise

 

 

Here I am on this foreign strand,

Surrounded by hostile faces—

Far from home, fatherland,

And familial embraces.

Loneliness is my sad refrain.

Never before have I felt such pain.

 

Through forests dense I’ve struggled on.

The four winds I have ridden.

Defying sense— when hope was wan

I’ve gone where my heart has bidden—

Till I arrived at this wretched dune,

East of the sun and west of the moon.

 

Not in all my wildest dreams

Could I have expected

Love to fly to such extremes,

Leaving me so dejected.

Where oh where is that golden glow

That lovers are supposed to know?

 

Can it be that I was wrong

In all that I was feeling—

That I blindly plunged headlong—

Thinking floor was ceiling—

Into this strange and wondrous affair?

Maybe he really doesn’t care.

 

Love has kept my courage there,

Shielded me from dark despair.

Yet though I seem so near my goal,

I still may lose him to this troll

And find myself completely forsaken.

What will I do if he won’t awaken?

 

I guess I’d better brace myself—

It’s time for me to face myself—

For it’s only I that I can trust—

Somehow, someway, I simply must.

 

I’ll stand alone—

Whatever the future brings—

I’ll turn the tide again.

Winds I will ride again.

My heart will glide again

On willing wings.

 

I’ll stand alone

Through rain, sleet, and snow.

In times unnerving

I’ll still be unswerving,

Till I see that beautiful rainbow’s glow.

 

I won’t give up my dignity

No matter what fate imposes—

For no one ever promised me

That life would be a bed of roses.

 

I’ll stand alone.

I never will give in—

Though troubles should shake me.

Nothing will break me—

For deep within I’ll always win.

 

I won’t give up my dignity

No matter what fate imposes—

For no one ever promised me

That life would be a bed of roses—

Shorn of every single thorn.

 

I’ll stand alone.

I never will give in—

Though troubles should shake me.

Nothing will break me.

Let the heavens forsake me—

Like the phoenix I’ll rise from the fire—

Higher and higher.

In the world deep within

I’ll always win.

 

 

The lassie sat down by the castle then,

And thus determined with all her might

That if she could be with the Prince again

Some way or other she’d arouse him tonight.

 

She got out the golden spinning wheel

And presently began to spin.

In a moment a glance the Princess did steal

At the girl from the castle within.—

Yes, indeed, true to her creed,

This long-nose was certainly driven by greed.

 

Out of the window she stuck her head

And the lassie did haughtily address.

“I’ll buy that from you, girl,” she said.

But the lassie, of course, did not acquiesce.

 

She replied, as she had twice before,

That it could be purchased neither for gold nor

Money.  Then she added, and yet,

If the Princess would but let

Her spend the night with the Prince alone,

The golden gift would be her own.

 

“Yes,” said the long-nose, “to that I’ll consent.”

And away with the spinning wheel she went.

 

But now you must know that imprisoned within

The castle the Trolls did keep

Some Good Folks who had heard the din

From the room next to theirs where the Prince did sleep.

They’d been carried off by the Trolls, you see,

And were kept in their chamber under lock and key.

 

Well, these Good Folks managed fortuitously

To get into the Prince’s room somehow.

They knew of his dire misery

And wanted to try and help him now.

 

Indeed, they had listened to everything

That had occurred the previous nights.

And some aid and comfort they sought to bring

For his and the lassie’s appalling plights.

 

 

 

“Stop Paying that Piper”

Good Folks

 

 

In our youth we were taught

To behave as we ought—

Keep commandments to the death—

Bow and scrape with every breath.

 

Father Sigmund made us wary

Of a superego— very

Punitive— said to know

How to keep our id in tow.

Soon to pleasure we were strangers,

Always finding hidden dangers

Lurking somewhere deep inside—

Till from life we had to hide.

 

Finally another voice within

Rose above the roaring din

To protest this sad affair—

Saying, ‘It’s human to err.

Man can grow from each mistake

That it is his lot to make—

Tap an inner resource vast

And break free from his past.’

 

Prince, we see your desperate state,

And we simply cannot wait

To come forward and declare—

Life is not a cross to bear.

Take a look inside and see

You alone can set you free

From the cruel— the evil spell,

Dooming you to living hell.

 

For in the prison of this place,

It’s yourself you must face—

The farthest reaches of your soul—

Where hides the most fearsome troll.

 

Chorus

Stop paying that piper—

The pestilent viper

Who saps your might and self esteem,

Scraps your right to wish and dream.

 

Stop paying that piper—

The petulant sniper

Who shoots your poise from under you,

Mutes your joys, your thunder, too.

 

Man was meant to live on this planet earth

In happiness, dignity, and self worth—

Not as a creature downtrodden with blame,

Whose every feature betrays his shame.

 

Stop taking those potions

That stymie your notions

And fill your mind with ‘what’s the use?’,

Till you’re blind with self abuse.

 

Stop taking those potions

That deaden emotions

And turn your scopes to endless sorrows,

Burn your hopes for new tomorrows.

 

Human life was born to flow and be free—

Giving, receiving lovingly—

Struggling forward, never to cease—

Seeking and finding the way to peace.

 

Dear Prince, please listen to us now.

We long to touch your life somehow

And penetrate the desolate gloom

That very soon will seal your doom.

 

Nozelle keeps you prisoner; she pretends

To give you the moon— to serve her ends.

Her potions are causing delirium.

Her poisons have made your senses numb.

She wraps you in darkness, self loathing, and blight—

By making it seem that wrong is right.

You mustn’t fall for this deceit.

Her victory is your defeat.

 

Dear Prince, please heed our every word.

Let us tell you what we’ve heard:

There’s a lady of the light

Whose cries have reached us through the night—

Pleading and calling, loving you so,

More than perhaps you’ll ever know.

Her prayers go unanswered, for you sleep on.

Alas, she is driven out with the dawn.

For two nights her pleas all slumber have shaken—

She’s begging you, Prince, to please awaken.

 

Perhaps this lady of the light

Will find her way to you tonight.

Open your heart— her trust requite—

For love will set our whole world right.

 

 

That evening, when the Princess came

To the Prince with her sleeping-drink,

He was onto her malicious game,

And the long-nose he did hoodwink.

 

The Prince made as if to quaff it all;—

But really threw it over his shoulder,—

And then asleep he pretended to fall.—

By leaps and bounds he was growing bolder!

 

So when the girl entered the room,

Prepared her desperate pleas to resume,

To her immeasurable delight

She found the Prince wide-awake this night!

 

 

Still, not yet was everything sublime;—

And now the Prince to the lassie said,

“Ah, you have surely come just in time,

For tomorrow to the Princess I’m to be wed.”

 

“But,” he continued as the girl’s face fell,

“We shall make her scheme miscarry.

Please don’t worry; all will be well.

The long-nosed Princess I’ll never marry!”

 

Then a plan the Prince began to unfold.

“You alone can save me,” said he

To the lassie.  “My acceptance I’ll withhold

And say to the Princess I first want to see

What my wife is fit for.  I will ask

Her to wash the tallow from my shirt.

The long-nose will gladly consent to the task,

Presuming that at this she’d be expert.”

 

“She won’t know you put the spots there.

I’ll say for my wedding this shirt I must wear

And that I’ll have no bride who does not show

That she can make it as white as snow.”

 

The Prince went on, “It cannot be done

By any pack of trolls, to be sure,

For this is work only for one

Whose heart is loving, kind, and pure.”

Said he to the lassie, “Then to finish my plan,

I’ll ask you to wash it,— and, of course, you can!”

 

So the Prince and the girl rejoiced all the night

To be in each other’s arms at last,

Knowing tomorrow they’d set things right

And finally erase their mistakes of the past.

 

This night was theirs and theirs alone.—

Such rapture a couple has never known!—

And the Prince to the lassie did express

Deep appreciation for her faithfulness.

 

 

 

“In the Nick of Time”

Prince

 

 

In the nick of time— just in the nick of time—

Came your voice that beckoned me

To awaken and be free.

 

In the nick of time— just in the nick of time—

Came your face— that lovely face—

And your beautiful embrace.

 

In the living hell of the spell that bound me,

I was so unhappy— until you found me…

 

In the nick of time— just in the nick of time—

Lost and lonely for the one and only

That I dreamed of—

In the nick of time— just in the nick of time—

Came your love.

 

 

Well, the very next day when the wedding was to be,

The Prince announced, “First of all, I must see

What my bride is fit for.”  “That’s all right with me.”

Said the Stepmother Troll decisively.

 

“I have a fine shirt,” continued the Prince,

“That I want to wear at my marriage, but since

Three drops of tallow have got on it somehow,

I must first have this shirt washed and dried.

Indeed,” said he, ”I have made a vow

To take no other for my bride

But the woman who is able to remove this stain.

After all,” he added, “if she can’t, it’s plain

That to marry such a one would be inane.”

 

Well, that seemed a very small matter indeed,

So thought the Trolls, and they agreed.

 

The first one to try was the long-nose, of course.

She rubbed and scrubbed with all her force;

Yet the more the Princess washed the shirt,

The bigger and blacker grew the spots of dirt.

 

“Ah, you can’t do it!” the Stepmother cried.

“Give it to me!”  But as soon as she tried

The stains grew larger and blacker until

All her washing and wringing made it look worse still.

 

Then the other women Trolls had to have at it, too.

Yet the more they scrubbed the uglier it grew

Till that shirt was so black that, for all one knew,

It might have been up a chimney flue.

 

 

 

“Compatibility”

Prince

 

 

Compatibility, compatibility—

What haven’t we got?

Compatibility.

Compatibility, compatibility—

Between us there’s not

Compatibility.

 

When love is a two-way street,

It can sweep you off your feet,

And time can be oh so sweet.

I’m talking about compatibility.

 

Compatibility is such a rarity,

Especially he and she solidarity.

With it life can be a hilarity—

Without it there’s a definite disparity.

 

Compatibility, compatibility—

What haven’t we found?

Compatibility.

Compatibility, compatibility—

No getting around

Compatibility.

 

When a man and woman mix,

All signals are go— not nix.

There’s no unfixable fix.

I’m talking about compatibility.

 

Compatibility is like a mellow wine.

You savor the flavor, for it tastes so fine.

Even all your troubles can seem benign,

And there’s no separation between yours and mine.

 

Compatibility, compatibility—

What thing haven’t we?

Compatibility.

Compatibility, compatibility—

It’s easy to see

Compatibility.

 

You know you’re on the wrong track,

When white looks blacker than black—

Then move the front to the back.

I’m talking about compatibility.

 

Compatibility is like the birds and bees

Or observing your ‘Q’s’ along with your ‘P’s’

It’s like saying ‘God bless you’ to a sneeze

And finding that it’s so very easy to please.

 

Compatibility, compatibility—

There simply is no

Compatibility.

Compatibility, compatibility—

What didn’t you show?

Compatibility.

 

It’s no good to compromise

Or try to rationalize.

If it’s there, it will arise.

I’m talking about compatibility.

 

Compatibility is never hard to tell,

For you see that all your lines are parallel.

When it’s right it’s right, and you fit so well.

The enchantment you feel is a wonderful spell.

 

Compatibility, compatibility—

You cannot suppress

Compatibility.

Compatibility, compatibility—

What don’t we possess?

Compatibility.

 

Not a bit, not a mite—

Not a speck, not a hair—

Not a drop, not a bite—

It just isn’t there!

 

We may maintain civility,

Through diligent mental agility.

We might even find tranquility,

With exceptional versatility—

But that can’t compare

With what we would share

If we had compatibility!

 

 

Having gained the advantage, the Prince now said,

“You’re none of you worth the hair on your head!

A beggar lassie sits outside,

And I’ll be bound she’s more qualified

To wash this shirt than any of you.”

Then he called to her without further ado,

“Come in here, lassie!”  Well, in she came.

“Can you get this shirt clean?” asked the Prince.

“I don’t know, but I’ll try,” she did exclaim.—

Of course she wasn’t hard to convince!

 

No sooner had the girl dipped the shirt

In the water than all the dirt

Seemed to vanish instantly,

And it was as white as white could be.

 

Then the Prince declared, “This lassie hath

Proved herself.  She’ll be my bride!”

The Trolls were seething with mounting wrath,

While the couple did not their pleasure hide.

 

 

 

“Love Song”

Prince and Anne Lise

 

 

Love that conquers all—

True love that conquers all—

 

Love, purer than powdery snow—

Whiter than stars that twinkle—

Love, surer than sunbeams aglow—

Brighter than bells that tinkle—

 

Love never harping, constricting, or binding—

Nor ever carping, inflicting, or blinding—

 

Love that conquers all—

True love that conquers all—

 

Warmer than the balmiest day—

Gentler than a kitten—

Love, lovelier far and away

Than any music written—

 

Love never hiding, distressing, or lying—

Nor ever chiding, oppressing, or prying—

 

Love that conquers all—

True love that conquers all—

Love that sets happiness free

Is your dear love to me.

 

 

Now the Trolls realized they’d been duped.—

Into militant columns they grouped;—

And, with fury flushing every face,

They marched upon the human race!—

 

Yes, these Trolls with rancor and malice did arm

Themselves. — They ranted, raved, and cursed.—

But though they meant to inflict great harm,

Instead, each one of them simply burst;—

And they have never been heard of since!

As for the lassie and the Prince,—

By the Trolls’ horrendous spewing

These two were not in the least perturbed.

They just went back to what they’d been doing,

Before they were so rudely disturbed.

 

 

The sun beamed its radiant blessings down,

Blazing like a glorious crown,

Upon the couple from above

And their now triumphant love.

 

It seemed that the mountains, fields, and trees

Did clap their hands gleefully,

As the Prince and his bride— or Princess, if you please,

Made haste to set the Good Folks free.

 

Then they gathered up all the silver and gold

That their lives could possible hold

And merrily flitted as far away—

On a wind of fortune, opportune,—

As ever they could from the castle that lay

East of the sun and west of the moon!

 

 

 

 

 

Now we’ve come full circle— back to where we began.

This timeless tale of a woman and man—

Of winds and trolls and gifts of gold—

Has let our imaginations run

To faraway places, both new and old,

West of the moon and east of the sun.—

Yet, if one thing stands out in the story we’ve told

It is that the heroine finally won

In faith and love by being bold.

 

And so, with this parting thought for you,

We’ll take our leave and say adieu.—

 

 

 

“Be Bold, Be bold, and Everywhere— Be Bold”

Finale Song— All

 

 

If you find that you have wandered way out on a limb,

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

When you find your choices clear— either sink or swim,

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

If you simply cannot fit yourself into the mold,

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

For no matter what contains it, gold will still be gold.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

Sometimes you must row your boat bravely up the stream.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Merrily, merrily live your life as more than just a dream.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

If you have to undertake a herculean feat,

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

You can grow from each and every obstacle you meet.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

When you find you have to stray away from the fold,

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Stand alone and you’ll discover wisdom untold.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

In this age who can help but thirst for the true way?

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Though your mirror’s tarnished, you can polish it today.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

Times will come when you will laugh—  times when you will weep.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

All in all, what you choose to sow is what you’ll reap.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

We must help our lovely planet Earth to survive.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Side by side let’s fight for peace and keep Mankind alive.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

 

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.

Be bold, be bold, and everywhere— be bold.