Your pencil strokes – so strong and sure –
They lie, they trick. Do you make me endure
This torture just to embarrass?
Or perhaps, render me defenceless?
My father, His Majesty, is really to blame:
Selling me, with the family name.
The King of France ordered a portrait
So I’m freezing here, just in my corset.
But it’s not me you draw, with your fine pencil:
It’s an unknown creature. She’s fair, gentle
And not like me. But neither King would
Accept me natural. So, Artist, be good.
Be merciful and discreet; draw the fantasy Princess
That should be, by popular request.
They lie, they trick. Do you make me endure
This torture just to embarrass?
Or perhaps, render me defenceless?
My father, His Majesty, is really to blame:
Selling me, with the family name.
The King of France ordered a portrait
So I’m freezing here, just in my corset.
But it’s not me you draw, with your fine pencil:
It’s an unknown creature. She’s fair, gentle
And not like me. But neither King would
Accept me natural. So, Artist, be good.
Be merciful and discreet; draw the fantasy Princess
That should be, by popular request.
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