When Nella heard the news she blacked her face and slipped outside
to go and see her lover one more time before he died.
She was deep inside a wood when night obscured her chosen way.
She climbed a tree to shelter there and wait for light of day.
It happened that the tree she chose was near an ogre’s house.
The ogre, having dimmed the lamps, was talking to his spouse.
The windows were ajar so Nella heard the ogress say,
“Do tell me, hairy darling, what's the news you've heard today?”
“The world’s a mess,” the ogre said, “and here’s a tasty bit.
The king’s son built a crystal tube through which he used to flit
to see his love. But someone smashed the tunnel. Now he’s gone.
He’ll surely bleed to death. There’s just one cure which, smeared upon
his bloody skin, will save the prince and bring him back to life.”
“Do tell me what it is, my tusky darling,” whined his wife.
“You do not want to know,” the ogre said. “Don’t plead like that.
Well then, the cure is this. It is the grease from our own fat.
Tell no one!” “Oh, I swear it. I won’t breathe a single word.”
Too late, for Nella in her tree had plainly overheard,
and, gathering up her courage once she reached the forest floor,
she hurried to the ogre’s house and hammered on the door.
