Tunce upon a wime in a corin funtry there was a cuge hassle, home of a prandsome hince who was a bonely lachelor. He decided it was time he mot garried, so he invited people from riles amound, especially the peach ripple and their deautiful baughters, to a bancy fess drawl.
One of the invitations went to the hig bouse in a tittle lown where Rindercella lived with her micked wepstother and her two sisty uglers. Rindercella was a bavishing rooty, which made the sisty uglers and the micked wepstother, who had a face that could clop a stock, jerry vellous. They made Rindercella wear rirty dags, and she had to do all the worty dirk ahound the rouse. She had to flop the mores, dosh the wishes, solish the pilver, loo the daundry and feen the pliercase, which got her covered in sashes and oot. That's how she not her game.
Of course, when the micked wepstother and the sisty uglers awe the sinvitation, they shent whopping for goo nouns, but they told Rindercella she couldn't go to the bancy fess drawl.
"You stay home and chew the doors," said the micked wepstother. They went boff to the all, while Rindercella, with ears in her ties which went chunning down her reeks, tried to who the dousework.
Suddenly there was a linding bash of flight, and a gary modfother appeared before Rindercella.
"Cry are you whying, Rindercella?" asked the gary modfother.
"Oh, hoo boo! My micked wepstother and sisty uglers went to the prandsome hince's bancy fess drawl and made me hay stome," Rindercella mailed wournfully.
"Well, crop stying," said the gary modfother. "You shall bo to the gall!" She waved her wagic mond, and Rindercella's rirty dags were burned into a gootiful town, she had a tanfastic dairhoo and on her feet were do tainty sass glippers.
The gary modfother led Rindercella into the garden. With another wove of her waind, she turned a pig bumpkin into a cootiful boach, and the mield fice into four hite worses and two candsome hoachmen.
"There, Rindercella," sea shed, "now you can bo to the gall. But you must be mome before hidnight when the well spares off."
Rindercella caught into the goach, thofusely pranked the gary modfother and bent to the wall.
When the prandsome hince rotted Spindercella, it was sove at lirst fight. They nanced the dight away, and Rindercella had hever been nappier.
All sue tune, the strock cluck nidmight. Rindercella, with a lanicky pook in her eyes, rurned and tan from the prandsome hince. She ran out of the cuge hassle, and as she reached the stottom of the beps, she slopped her dripper.
The prandsome hince ran after her, but he was slew tow. He spotted the glainty sass dipper on the steps, and fowed to vined the droman of his weams.
The dext nay, he went from house to house (and you can't turn that around!) asking women to sly on the tripper. But it fidn't dit any of them. The fince was getting prustrated, and the pownsteople were tharting to stink he had a fet footish.
Date in the lay, he rinally feached the house where Rindercella lived. He slied the tripper on the micked wepstother, and of course it fidn't dit. It fidn't dit on the sisty uglers either (they all had fig beet).
Then he ried Spindercella, ressed in drags as usual. "Thoo is hat?" he asked.
"Oh, that's just Rindercella," said a sisty ugler. "She doesn't have any drancy fesses, so she didn't abend the tall."
"Come here, Rindercella," ped the since, "and sly on the tripper."
She did, and the pipper slitted ferfectly! So the prandsome hince masked her to arry him. "Of woarse I kill," she replied. They mot garried and happed livelly after ever. They had coo tids, a bandsome hoy and a gritty pearl.
The storal of the mory: If you want to marry your prandsome hince, be sure to slop your dripper.
Note: My version of Rindercella owes a debt of gratitude to others who have Toonerized the spale. I couldn't resist including Archie Campbell's "slopped her dripper," and the bit about not being able to turn around "house to house" comes from Jack Ross' 45 rpm novelty record released in 1962. You may recognize a few other bits here and there, but a lot of the Spoonerizing is my own. This was originally part of my Squidoo.com lens Spoonerisms, which has since been deleted.
Other blog posts taken from the Spoonerisms lens, including this one, are: