Pretty

I used to think I was witty
I used to think I was pretty
It was handy to be
a quick-witted beau-ty
the head of the slapstick committee

I practice all day on my lines
to say them at just the right times
they came out like chimes
were at times clever rhymes
and stopped dull debates on a dime

I studied the mirror for days
to accept my own admiring gaze
would my fairness ever fade?
or my humor be dismayed?
Or would I just hear unending praise?

Oh I had it all I guess
in banter and beauty no less
I'd say the right thing
to make little birds sing
surrounding creatures I'd bless

but one day I opened my yapper
and out came an insulting snapper
I turned a deep red
ruing what I said
and went off and hid in the crapper

I didn't expect any pity
(I needed to work on my 'witty')
the next day I was plain
my ego fully slain
But, thank goodness, I was still fully pretty!