the queen of hearts, she made some tarts
all on a hot summer’s day
the knave of hearts, he stole those tarts
and ran far away
the queen, her heart, it turned too ****
and filled her with dismay
and then the **** it changed her heart
now hear the mad queen say,
‘off with his head
off with his head
off with his head, my prey’
yes, the **** it killed her heart
and now the knave is dead
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
the queen of hearts, she made some tarts
all on a hot summer’s day
the knave of hearts, he stole those tarts
and ran far away
the queen, her heart, it turned too ****
and filled her with dismay
and then the **** it changed her heart
now hear the mad queen say,
‘off with his head
off with his head
off with his head, my prey’
yes, the **** it killed her heart
and now the knave is dead
The first four lines of the poem are not mine. I merely extended a rhyme that I saw in a story.
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