Fairytale Rescue Services?
It's Myrtle, your favourite client.
Our pumpkin coach has been overturned
by a road-raging lump of a giant!

We HAVE to get to the Glass Slipper Ball -
Prince Charming's returned from his quest!
And it's awfully cold in the Haunted Wood,
Poor Berta's not wearing a vest ...

WHAT! Call yourselves Fairytale Rescue?!
I can hardly believe my own ears!
"Halloween is your busiest time,
you're tied up for the next hundred years?"

BEEEEEEP!

Hello? HELLLLOOOOO?! Fairytale ResCUE?

They hung up on me, Berta!

What on earth shall we DO?

Just call a Troll, Mistress Myrtle,
I really think that you should
flag down a troll, Mistress Myrtle,
to carry us safe through the wood!

And WHAT IF the Troll's bad and hungry?
WHAT IF the Troll's mad and mean?
WHAT IF the Troll hurls us over the bridge,
'Cause we don't have Jack's Magic Bean?

Oh, just trip-trap over there, Myrtle,
and ask the nice Troll for a favour.
I will not trip-trap over there, Berta.
He might take his lunch Myrtle-flavour!

Wait - maybe those three Goats can help us - 
they look so incredibly buff ...
Oh yes! See! They're crossing the Troll Bridge -
Hooray! It's the Billy Goats Gruff!


Words © 2014 Lesley Moss
Illustration © 2014 Loretta Schauer

Did you hear that Troll, Doris?
Did you hear what he said,
With his, ‘Who’s that trip trapping right over my head?’

Did you hear him Doris?
Shouting out in a mood,
And you and me out walking, how dare he be rude?

I’m going back Doris,
I’ll be sweetness and light,
But if that Troll complains, I shall put up a fight. 

Well come on then Doris,
I’m so cross I could burst,
I’ll watch your back, Doris. You can go first.

Poem ©2014 Kathryn Evans
Illustration © 2014 Loretta Schauer

PLAN B FOR CINDERELLA

“Stop fretting! You’ll get to the ball.
Take my purse to the shopping mall.
Buy some shoes and a dress, 
rent a car—just don’t stress. 
Once the wand's fixed, I’ll give you a call!”






Poem ©2013 Rebecca Colby
Illustration ©2013 Bridget Strevens-Marzo

Goldilocks, the little beast
She didn’t care a jot,
She robbed the rich she robbed the poor
She robbed the blinking lot.

She sneaked into the Bear’s house-
That sweet and happy home-
And broke the chairs and trashed the beds
And stole their mobile phones.

She even ate their porridge,
After pinching all their money
But then…
they caught her at it
And they ate her with some honey.

The moral of this story,
In case you didn’t get it
Is never rob a bear’s house,

They tend not to forget it.

Poem ©2013 Katrhryn Evans
Illustration ©2013 Bridget Strevens-Marzo

Run away down the hill!
Run away down the hill!
The wolf is coming for the kill,
He wants to munch us for his lunch.
Run away, run away down the hill!

Run away in the wood!
Run away in the wood!
The wolf would eat us if he could,
As his main course with apple sauce.
Run away, run away in the wood!

Run away through the ditch!
Run away through the ditch!
Oh no I’ve gone and got a stitch.
I’m out of huff, you’re out of puff.
Run away, run away through the ditch!

Run away round the bend!
Run away round the bend!
Looking for our journeys end
Must get there quick, the house of brick.
Run away run away round the bend.

Run away to the door!
Run away to the door!
Now we’re here, we’re safe for sure.
Oh no! We're shocked, the door is locked.
Run away run away to the door.

Run away round the back!
Run away round the back!
Hiding from the wolf attack,
And here’s a note our brother wrote
Run away run away round the back.

Oh no where to run!
Oh no where to run!
Gone away for a week in the sun,
He gets a tan the wolf gets ham.
No where, oh no where to run!

Poem ©2013 George Kirk
Illustrations ©2013 Bridget Strevens-Marzo

There once lived a young maiden with shiny gold hair,
She had blue sparkling eyes and a confidant air.
And one day that same maiden was heard to declare,
"I must set out to find the most comfortable chair!"

Word went out in the land, ‘A new chair we must find!’
But each chair that was brought her, she promptly declined.
She tried soft backs and hard backs, wool, wood and silk lined,
But no chair in the land would impress her behind.

Then while walking she came ‘pon a cottage so cozy,
And peered through the window (she was very nosy).
She spotted three chairs and her cheeks went all rosie,
"I need to  sit down, as I do feel quite dozy."

“I must try those chairs now, there’s no room for delay!”
So she picked the door lock, like she’s seen in a play.
But the two bigger chairs left her rump in dismay.
Then she tried the third chair and cried, "Haloo, Hallay!"

She said, "This is the chair I have searched for so long.
To abandon this chair now would simply be wrong.
I shall sit in this chair, hum a happy chair song
and I’ll wait til the folk from the house come along."

And so that's where they found her, in that very chair
When the three bears returned home and came down the stairs.
And well, bears being bears, they just ate her right there.
But they all took great care not to mess up the chair. 

Poem ©2013 Mo O'Hara
Image ©2013 Bridget Strevens-Marzo

There Once Was A Really Mean Fairy,
whose name was Euphonia Brisket.
Her face was as sour as the milk she devoured
every night, with blue cheese and a biscuit.

One thing you should know about Brisket:
she was awfully careless with magic.
Incorrect incantations she spluttered and spat
as her spell hit a Rat, which was tragic.

A request had come in by mail order,
for a love spell hand-made by E. Brisket.
Poor Ratty just happened to get in the way,
as Euphonia stirred it and whisked it.

The Rat was so suddenly love-struck,
there were stars in his eyes as he fell.
"What shall I do to woo you, my love true?"
he said, twirling his whiskers, "do tell!"

At this, the Mean Fairy went red in the face,
and chased the Rat out of the room.
"That Rat loves a Fairy! 'Ow dare 'ee!" she yelled,
as she swept him aside with her broom.

"Fairy Brisket, please listen, please do,
to the plight of a Rat who's in love.
for I've never felt this way ever before,
and my heart is all yours, my dear dove!"

"Ever looked in a mirror?" sneered Brisket.
"Tail twitchy, fur matted, teeth green - 
face the facts, my dear chap, you're a verminous Rat,
beside ME you're not fit to be seen!"

Now Brisket herself was no picture,
as the looking glass clearly revealed,
but her spell made the Rat see a glamorous beauty,
as dizzily round her he reeled.

Alas for poor Ratty! His love unrequited,
his end was most gruesome, I'm certain.
For as Brisket's patience snapped, so did the rat trap,
and then, for the Rat, it was curtains.

Poem © Lesley Moss 2013
Illustration © Bridget Strevens-Marzo 2013

“Sweet Isabel, it’s time to eat.
Come sit upon your royal seat.
The chef has made a tasty treat.”

The princess rushed to take her place,
Then saw the food and pulled a face.
“That’s gross!” she said, to her disgrace.

“But Isabel, it’s Princess Stew.
Try it, please. It’s good for you--
Nutritious and delicious, too!”

“It’s pig pen slop. It looks a fright!
You won’t get me to eat a bite.
Remove this rubbish from my sight!”

"Now Isabel, we must insist,
You eat your meal and don’t resist.
When it’s gone, you’ll be dismissed.”

She wouldn’t do as she was told.
She sat and watched her stew grow cold. 
She sat for days as it grew mould. 

Her parents weren’t completely mean,
Each day they scraped off all the green.
“Now tell us when your plate is clean.”

Not wanting to admit defeat, 
She gave it to her dog to eat.
He gulped it like it was a treat!

“Look at you! It must be true!
Stop right now! I want some too!
It tastes like fudge. Whoever knew?”

The princess ate and ate and ate,
And said, “This stew is really great!
May I have another plate?”

Her parents beamed, “See, Isabel.
You never know, you just can’t tell,
If food tastes good by look or smell.”

“You’re right,” she said. “Here’s what I’ll do:
I won’t say ‘gross’ or ‘blah’ or ‘poo,’ 
Or make a face at Princess Stew, 
…until my dog has tried it too!”

Image ©2012 Sam Zuppardi 
Poem ©2012 Rebecca Colby