Disclaimer: I don't own Snow White. If I did, or any other fairy tale, I would have ensured the Disney renditions were a lot more like this poem and a lot less like Twilight's great-grandmother.
Snow White!
They say that girl,
She be'd of-
Red lips a' ruby,
Like an apple shell;
White skin a' babe,
Pure as the sun cloud;
Black hair a' raven's feather,
Darker than clear night's way…
But, nay! For I know it not so,
That wicked girl!
Red lips a' poison blood,
Like an open wound;
White skin a' death,
No promise of ever decay'd;
Black hair a' plague'd rot,
Darker than the secret she keeps…
Oh, how I know it so,
For I ha' seen it true!
It is the box she keeps; secret
But no, but know-
What is kept there?
In that wicked box for
That wicked girl!
It be the secret true;
What keeps her beauty be-
Her heart.
Red a' blood!
White a' death!
Black a' plague'd rot!
That wicked girl;
Snow White!
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-KydChyme