Tell me a story tell it well

Make it true, break the spell

For if you tell me a tall tall tale

I will see your face fall and fail

In your telling I see the lies

Your face I grow to despise

Serve me only a tale of truth

Otherwise I’ll see your crooked tooth

And as your smile

Grows for a while

From ear to ear

A dreaded fear

A crooked smile upon a mother’s face

As she does fail to hold her grace

But cracks do crumble

As thoughts do tumble

Down she falls into a fit

Of rage and thunder in a tar pit

Black as night and right as rain

The puddles show her all her pain

Drops of reflection

In one collection

Mother dear

I know your fear

Gather it up

In a cup

Then tell me your story well

So we can break this magic spell

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