winnie's e-journal - Set 7: the tower
Spin the spindle
Spin the spindle
On the spinning wheel
Prick your finger
You bleed to death
Prick your finger
So that you may sleep
Close your eyes
Dream sweet dreams
Pull up the blanket
Over your head
Spin the spindle
Spin the spindle
On the spinning wheel
Your fingers are numb
The days are dull
Up in the tower
Locked away
Nothing to do
But spin