I know you don't recognize my name,
Although my story revels in fame.
My step-sister, what a fella.
Do you know her? Cinderella.
Before you start to snide,
Please listen to my side.
 
Once upon a time,
My life was quite sublime.
I had a mother, a father,
Drizella, not a bother.
Living happily in a private palace,
Drinking beverages from a golden chalice.
 
Then disaster struck,
Alas my new bad luck:
My father was buried,
My mother remarried.
My stepfather died
We - all four - cried.
 
Recognize the story here?
Let me tell you something, dear.
How this tale gets reported
Is overly distorted.
I never acted cruelly.
Here’s the story: told truly.
 
A first - we were poor
No one to scrub the floor.
My mother - not a slob,
She gave each girl a job.
A fair load to each she gave,
But Cinderella - what a knave.
 
Something you never knew:
Chores: Ella would not do.
This part when told is often hazy:
Cinderella is awfully lazy.
But my mother did clearly see,
And planned to punish one of three.
 
When word of the prince's ball arrived,
Drizella and I together strived
To finish every single chore,
In order to waltz across the ballroom floor.
In order to waltz across the ballroom floor.
Meanwhile, Cinderella’s day dreaming,
Surely sent my mother screaming.
 
Instead of going to the ball,
Cinderella would recall
Every time she slacked,
And her chores had lacked.
My mother very much insisted
She finish every task resisted.
 
Outraged, were we three,
When the prince danced with she!
Forgoing all her chores,
Ella on ballroom floors!
She flirted with the prince
And made my mother tense.
 
Mother, with reasons well founded,
Declared Cinderella grounded.
Declared Cinderella grounded.
So my mother kept Ella locked away,
Even when royals knocked the next day.
The prince bid us try on a shoe.
We complied as subjects do.
 
Drizella tried first, and it clearly did show,
That the shoe did not fit, so Mother cut off her toe.
This couldn't be serious?
My mother, delirious!
The prince saw blood,
Sister a dud.
 
My turn came,Hopes of fame.
Hopes of fame.
Pray slipper fit,
So nothing slit.
Alas lost heel,
But no marriage deal!
 
Now I walk with a cane,
While Ella will soon reign.
I just hope it's not too lateTo set this story straight.
To set this story straight.
‘Twas Drizella and I that slaved.
Cinderella did not need saved.
 
The story you’ve heard before is wrong.
In a palace, Cinderella does not belong!