Love is such a simple thing to do,

And when you meet the one, you’ll know that’s it.

But still I’m left here holding this here shoe,

Trying to find the one whose foot it fits.

The one I love has lost her glass babouche.

And I already know that she’s the one.

For when our eyes, first met—my heart—it swooshed!

We danced ‘til midnight then she had to run.

I’ve searched my kingdom far and wide and this

Here manor is the last one in the realm.

These sisters seem so forward but they fit.

Oh, God, but is this blood? Oh, Saint Anselme!

I can’t believe they’d cut off half their feet?

Is someone else here whom I’ve yet to meet?