Into My Parlor
Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly;
Aunt Nancy's baking gingersnaps for tea.
Come into my parlor darling, let me tell you lies;
It isn't wise to trust in what you see.
Come into my parlor there are roses by the door
And the fire turns the air as hot as sin;
Come into my parlor roll me over on the floor,
Tell the sacred clowns they're free to enter in --
All we are is archetypes and shadows on the wall,
Pretty poison apple girls and charmaids at the ball,
I will lose my cloak of crimson, I will let you cut my hair,
I will cast my tattercoat aside and ask you what you dare,
For we're only sacred shadows, lessons dying to be taught;
We're the morals and mortalities that shouldn't be forgot...
Come into my parlor said the princess to the prince;
Just climb the wall and take me for your own.
Come into my parlor -- and he hasn't been seen since.
He sleeps among the brambles and the stones.
Come into my parlor for a moment for a tale
Where the wine runs sweet and poison in your throat;
Come into my parlor as the light begins to fail,
Forgive me for the things I never wrote --
All we are is archetypes and shadows of the past,
Pretty poison apple girls and loves not meant to last,
I will spin straw into treasure, I will keep to what I swear,
I will strip your lindworm's skin aside and ask you what you dare,
For we're only sacred shadows, lessons dying to be taught;
We're the morals and mortalities that shouldn't be forgot --
And Aunt Nancy knows that symbols have to change to stay alive,
Have to shift and move their meanings if they're trying to survive,
And the Trickster's silken ribbon in my veins runs like a road,
Telling me the storytellers must be paid what they are owed --
Come into my parlor said the spider, said the hare,
Said the raven with his black and clever wings.
Come into my parlor, come and see what's waiting there,
It's time to tell you, oh, so many things --
All we is archetypes, but archetypes endure,
Pretty poison apple girls aren't victims any more.
I will feed you pomegranate seeds, just six before you go,
I will cast my feathered mask aside and teach you what I know,
For we're sweet and sacred shadows, lessons dying to be taught;
We're the morals and mortalities that shouldn't be forgot...
In these sweet and sacred shadows every lesson begs a fee...
And Aunt Nancy's baking gingersnaps for tea.Written on: 2008-11-26. Seanan McGuire