There once lived a lady on the very top of a tower
The tower was single in these macabre, wild woods
She kept a dusty crown and a dozen of velvet hoods
In her chamber, and gracefully walking each even hour
She went to the balcony and observed her domain
The Death himself stood at attention and wind died down
And the lady bent to the golden cage and hid her frown
And let the jailed storm finch fly away to glorify her reign
He killed some voles and flew to the very coast of the sea
He darted down to the waters and broke the other birds' eggs
Until the lady pulled the lace perpetually tied to its legs
And storm finch jibed and started his sorrowful plea
But the lady primed her lips and shut the cage
Until another even hour she let her storm finch for the hunt
As he forgot that he's no bird of pray, as in the cage he's blunt
As she forgot that that playing with alive is indecent in her age
But she loved to give her citizens free reign blustered not to - nevermore
But he secretly loved the feeling of lace in his bleeding limb
And the idea that he didn't resist to satisfy his mistress' whim
Fortunately, it made them forget that the tower possessed no door