Mirror mirror, on the floor
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Why you my queen, you know it’s true
But although you’re fair you’re clumsy too
For while you’ve been moving your arms around
I’ve somehow reached the stony ground
Mirror mirror, reflections shattered
You think it’s I who caused you to clatter?
Yes my Queen, I’m afraid I know
You knocked me off with your elbow
While brushing your dark and dangerous locks
After smashing your perfume and your make-up box
An arm like a rocket, my how it hurt
Now I’m in pieces looking right up your skirt
And all the King’s craftsmen and all the King’s glue
Simply can’t make me as good as new
So Queenie Queenie please take care
Next time you tackle your tangly hair
Indeed, I’m so sorry, and there’s another reason it does suck
Because you’re magic and that means seven times more bad luck!