She sits in a castle made of glass,
and waits for the guard bellow to pass.
Then slowly, she lets down her hair
and climbs down gently with some care.

Finally, her feet can touch the cold stone.
So she walks and walks till she hears a groan:
It was a wrinkled man; helpless and old;
beaten and poor but heart made of gold.

She bent down and sat there on one knee,
then played with her hair to earn some money.
Slowly but surely the money came pouring in
and, for a long time since, the old man was no longer thin.