A princess stands still on a bed of pale lettuce
In her hands, she holds a dark, raw steak.
The steak drips red and stains the pale lettuce
And the hands of the princess start to shake.
She tries to keep hold of the steak, but it’s slipping
‘Cause her hands spasm wildly in the air
The dark, raw steak drops splat on the lettuce
And the princess in her trance can only stare.
“You have dropped the royal steak!” chides the King
“You’re a moron! Fifty lashes with a whip shall be your
prize!”
With a thwack thwack thwack, the Lasher whips her back
And her buttocks and the flesh-twins of her thighs.
The princess stands still on the bed of pale lettuce
‘Til her blood runs down her backside to her feet
Then the King scoops up the bed of pale lettuce
And says to the princess: “Eat.”
The princess eats the blood-imbued lettuce
With her hands, which still haven’t ceased to shake.
“There, there,” says the Queen. “I know it’s not pleasant.
But it’s only fair. You dropped the royal steak.”
