Beauty’s Beast

Beauty would play with girls
Forever if she were allowed
But her father has warned her
She’d better choose a husband
And soon
It’s her duty to provide the palace
With a prince
And she must give up her girlfriends
Every one of them

The King is not kidding
But still Beauty hides
To play
Under tablecloths with scullery maids
In closets with her ladies-in-waiting

Her father caught her this morning
In the rose garden with a red-headed wench
Under a willow tree, blanket stretched out,
Two entwined as one,
On the old stone bench

Her father suspects, nay, is convinced
If left to her own devices,
Beauty will never marry, she’d stay all alone,
The King must insure heirs to his royal throne

The King decides this father must choose for his daughter
And in a moment of passionate haste he declares,
“Beauty will marry the next man to enter the palace gates,
So long as he is manly, broad-shouldered, and strong!”
After all, the King wants tall, princely grandsons to carry on

Trumpets announce a visitor’s arrival
Leading his massive black stallion is a hunter
Standing nearly as tall as his horse,
His shoulders even more broad than his saddle
Of course

The King declares the man perfect for a son-in-law
Beauty declares him ‘beastly’ as she watches the hunter
Unload his heaping pile of animal skins
From his stallion’s wide leather-covered saddle

Beauty’s father warns her not to make trouble
Beauty knew better than to offer a rebuttal
“You will marry him and put down the rumors
Of you and your girls and your ill-fated humor.
Provide me with an heir or two – or ten.”
Beauty feels it’s unfair to be made to marry a man
Such a harsh punishment, a life imprisonment

Beauty and the Beast-Hunter, as he is known
Become man and wife in a ceremony fit
For the only child of a king

Their day to day life happens out of her father’s eye
In the palace’s private South wing
But the waitstaff report diligently back to their King
So Beauty maintains dignity while making small talk
On everything from the food to the long-winded prayer
Dinnertime is an altogether unpleasant affair
She is a vision of regal graciousness,
Not admonishing the Beast on his loud
Masticating or lack of table manners
And all the while
Beauty is dreaming of bed time

The Beast, as Beauty’s privately christened him,
Doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him
As long as he gets to hunt before dawn and
He is well fed, well ale’d, before bed

The Beast doesn’t notice that his wife never visits his chambers
He’s too busy planning for the next morning’s hunt
The oohs and aahs from his wife’s quarters never concern him
After all, he knows that in all of this castle
Beauty has only her handmaidens for company
Yes, indeed, Beauty has her handmaidens for company

Perhaps she can adopt an heir for her father


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