Henrietta Van den Trogs,
A virgin princess, fond of frogs,
Looked in the mirror one fine day
And horror stricken, saw some grey.

The dreadful image made her wince!
It was high time she got a Prince!
She looked again at her reflection,
Hardly a sight to rouse the passions

Of any passing Prince or King.
In all a most unlovesome thing!
Face like a horse, alack, alas!
How would she ever find a match?

Too late! Too late! Alas, alack!
Then sudden inspiration struck:
She’d find a frog to kiss, she thought.
A grateful Prince would blossom forth.

No sooner said, she fled headlong
Down to the lake where rushes throng
And water lilies bloom in beauty.
‘Twas there she saw a frog on duty,

Glistening like an emerald.
A lovely sight! She was enthralled
And kissed him straight without decorum,
Saying with love: “My place or your’un?”

“Mine!” croaked the frog, swelling with pride,
While she shrank slowly to his size,
Then followed coyly in his wake
To their new pad across the lake.