A long, forgotten time ago
In long-forgotten lands
There lived a pair of lovely twins
Who worked as stablehands.
The first girl was named Allison,
The second, Mirabella.
Both had dreams of rescue
By a prince (or princely fella).
Both were bright and beautiful
And full of youthful vigor,
Their smiles were breezes in the heat
And fires within the frigor.
Allison worked hard all day
Attending to the mules,
Believing that her honest work
Would lead to princely jewels.
Mirabella worked instead
As little as she could,
Aiming to stay soft and clean
As any princess should.
Many peasants came to try
To earn a sister’s heart.
Some were strong or rich or brave
And others still made art.
But neither flowers and poetry
Nor deeds both great and small
Could attract the twins, who wanted
A prince, else none at all.
Allison grew old and strong
And wealthy all the while.
Mirabella just grew old,
But did it with a smile.
There are far fewer princes
Than lovely stablehands
In both the world in which we live
And long-forgotten lands.
Neither twin could find a prince
And neither was a wife
But both, at least, had managed
To live a happy life.
