Magic Mirror

Once upon a golden age,
In some quite perfect place,
A flawless girl with honey curls
Beheld her smiling face.

The mirror there, upon the wall,
Great magic it possessed.
It said, as fact, with no great tact,
“My dear, you’re badly dressed.

The ringlets, girl! The chequered frock!
The cheeks so sweet and pink!
You are a lass with little class,
What must the people think?”

She gazed upon her tartan gown,
And she began to cry,
“You and me both!” unkindly quoth
The mirror with a sigh.

The golden girl, she turned her back,
And slammed the old oak door.
The mirror heft, it now was left
In pieces on the floor.

The moral, kids, is simply this,
So hear it loud and clear;
To get on well, austerely tell
Folks what they want to hear.