A Handmade Life

A beggar child walked the roads
Fed herself on bugs and toads
And things she found in garbage cans
A homeless life makes harsh demands

But she enjoyed each morning's light
To pass the time, she made up bright
Small stories laced with jokes and songs
And called them out the whole day long
Well, a half blind wealthy crone drove by
In carriage, gold, asked her why
She sang so sweet while dressed so poor
To answer her the child sang more...

I dress in rags, I suck on stones
Sometimes hunger shakes my bones
But deep inside, below the strife
I have a precious Handmade Life

You see my shoes are far from fine
But they are red as new made wine
From scraps I worked them, with my knife
They dance me through my Handmade Life

The crone was touched, she took the girl and
Brought her to her wealthy world
She burned her clothes, she burned those shoes
Then bought up all the child could choose

At first the girl had not a care
Toys and candy everywhere
But soon the clothes, the trips to town
Echoed with an empty sound

And late at night, a hollow ache
Began to keep the child awake
She'd tiptoe to the windowsill
Sing the song within her still...

I dress in rags, I suck on stones
Sometimes hunger shakes my bones
But deep inside, below the strife
I have a precious Handmade Life

You see my shoes are not the best
But they are red as robin's breast
From scraps I worked them, with my knife
They dance me through my Handmade Life

The story goes the young girl died
When new red slippers, she had tied
Upon her feet forced her to dance
Through briar and thicket, in a trance

A passing woodsman, then she begged
"Take pity, sir, cut off my legs
And end this empty dance I do
I'd rather bleed to death, it's true"

A crimson ax, a crimson stone
And half a girl there, all alone
Now sleeping soft in nature's bed
And cradled in the color red

(Based on The Red Shoes – Hans Christian Andersen)