PRINDERELLA AND THE CINCE

However many definitions there may be, of poetry, paramount is the idea that it is about language, working and playing with language.
Here, for April Fools’ day, is a spooneristic exercise in foolishness: my own very brief (there are longer versions but how long can you go on with this, without it’s becoming annoying ?) version of an often spoonerized tairy fale, to make your cresh fleep and give you poose gimples.

PRINDERELLA AND THE CINCE

Tonce upon a wime
there lived a gretty little pirl
named Prinderella.

She lived with her two sugly isters
and her micked wepstother
who made her
wean the clindows
pine the shots and shans
flub the scroors
and do all the other wirty dork.

Wasn’t that a shirty dame?

Then one day the Ping issued a kroclamation
that all geligible irls were invited to
a drancy fess ball.
Alas, poor Prinderella couldn’t go
because she didn’t have a drancy fess,
only a rirty dag that fidn’t dit.

Wasn’t THAT a shirty dame!

Then along came Prinderella’s gairy fodmother
who changed a cumpkin into a poach
some hice into morses
and Prinderella’s rirty dag
into a drancy fess!
But she warned Prinderella to come home
at the moke of stridnight.

So Prinderella went to the drancy fess ball
and pranced all night with a dince
until—oh no! the moke of stridnight!
Prinderella suddenly lad to heave,
In such a hig burry that
as she was running down the stalace peps
she slipped on the bottom pep and
slopped her dripper.

The next day, the Ping issued another kroclamation
that all gelligible irls were to sly on the tripper.
Prinderrella’s two sugly isters slied on the tripper,
but it fidn’t dit.
Then Prinderrella slied on the tripper
and it fid dit!
So…Prinderella married the Cince
and all was hell and wappy ever after.

That wasn’t such a shirty dame, was it!
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PRINDERELLA AND THE CINCE