Roses are red, 

people wilt too, 

Cinderella is fading away. 

She works day and night, 

to her sisters' delight,

on the filthy ground like a slave. 

A knock on the door, 

a man with a letter, 

and happiness in his eyes. 

"A royal ball," he said, 

"for the prince to choose, 

which lady will be his bride." 

With hope in her heart, 

and joy in her mind, 

Cinderella got out a dress. 

With beads and ribbons, 

and help from the mice, 

it'd be better than all the rest. 

The sisters got jealous, 

in the presence of beauty, 

and ripped her dress in wrath. 

The stepmother said, 

"you won't go to the ball. 

Now give my cat a bath."

But later that night, 

still dressed in rags, 

Cinderella snuck off to the ball. 

As she reached the steps, 

with one hour left, 

she witnessed an old man fall. 

Right of his horse, 

he hit the ground, 

yelling out in pain. 

Cinderella knew she had a choice,

help this man, 

or be late. 

She chose the man, 

helping him up, 

and wiping his wounds clean. 

Up on the stairs, 

out for fresh air, 

the Prince witnessed the whole thing. 

In that moment, 

he chose Cinderella,

to be with the rest of his life. 

He said, "it's not beauty, 

but kindness of heart, 

that I'm wanting in a wife."