And as she came to the witch

And as she came to the witch,

Sleeping Beauty fair, Sleeping Beauty good,

that witch pricked her on her little finger,

and red blood flowed.

She closed her bright eyes,

and the maiden slept from the prick of the spindle

until about the grey, royal castle there spread

a hedge of roses.

And after three hundred years

a handsome knight arrived;

with his shining sword he hacked his way through

until he won the maiden.

I wish that I lay sleeping

in a thicket of roses for three hundred years

until the One arrived

to win me!