: Cinderella The Little Glass Slipper

What is that ugly thing I see

Which follows, follows, follows me,

Which ever way I turn or go?

What is that thing? I want to know.

If I but turn to left or right

It does the same with all its might;

It looks so ugly and so black

When o'er my shoulder I look back.

Sometimes it runs ahead of me,

Sometimes quite short it seems to be,

And then again it's very tall;

I don't know what it is at all.

I'll climb into my little bed,

And on my pillow lay my bead,

For when I'm there I never see

That thing in front or back of me.