//------------------------------//
// Canto VII 
// Story: The Song of the Mandrake Queen 
// by Tavifag 
//------------------------------//

Poor Carrot ran through wood and hedge
And though she knew not how
She met the profane forest's edge
With dawn's light on her brow

Her muscles tired through and through,
Exhaustion slowed her gait
Yet she still had much work to do;
The potion could not wait.

She reached her humble carrot patch
And with a pensive breath
Undid her satchel's rusty latch
And grasped the brew of death

With closely measured careful drops
She poured it to and fro
And as the potion hit her crops
They shone with magic's glow

And once the potion all was gone
She put the flask away
Then trudged across her dewy lawn
Right at the break of day.

She went inside her worn front door
To check up on her foal
She found him sleeping with a snore -
A peaceful, happy soul!

The harrowed farmer had a drink
To block out what she'd done
Then went upstairs to sleep a wink
Beneath the morning sun.

She shut her eyes and tried to rest
But sleep came fitfully
Her blade within the filly's chest
Was all her dreams could see

And some time hence she heard a noise
That work her with a jolt
She ran downstairs with speed and poise
For it came from her colt

Her sickly son bounced happily
His joyous grin was wide
He bid his mom to come and see
The miracle outside!

And when the farmer's gaze was drawn
Her lips uttered an oath
For all her crops had undergone
A truly massive growth

Their bright green stalks stood tall and proud
At least a sapling's height
Their orange hue was bright and loud
Their ripeness was just right

Each swollen carrot seemed to match
A large wood barrel's width
It did appear the humble patch
Was now the stuff of myth!

With jaw agape she took young Sprout
And, making not a peep
The son and mother both went out
A bounty rich to reap

Despite her incredulity
Her labors did begin
She used her ingenuity
To bring the harvest in

She sent her son to grab supplies
To build herself a winch
For picking carrots of this size
Would never be a cinch!

By noon she finished her machine
And yet she labored on
Her carrots, by their stalks so green,
From out the earth were drawn

With all her strength she pulled and pulled
Against each carrot's root
Her muscles strained and sweat drops rolled
To win her orange loot

By three, the steadfast Carrot Top
Had picked her small patch bare
She loaded up her monstrous crop
With tender loving care.

And once the cart was loaded in
She turned and went inside
To go prepare her sickly kin
To take him for a ride

In blankets thick she wrapped her sweet
To ward him from a chill
She placed him in the cart's high seat
Then left for Ponyville

And as the farmer pulled her cart
To sell her harvest's yield
She saw a sight that froze her heart
Encroaching on her field

For just beyond the furthest bound
Her carrots had been sown
Within the dark and fertile ground
Some mandrake root had grown!

But Carrot bottled up her fright;
She couldn't let Sprout know
The awful thing she'd done last night
To make her carrots grow.

She set her eyes upon the road
And soon the mighty mare
Had pulled her old cart's heavy load
Into the market square

She quickly opened up her stall
And with a sharp, loud wail
Bid all the ponies, great and small
To come and see her sale

And when she set her carrots down
The townsfolk gasped in shock
And soon the tight-knit, sleepy town
Was all abuzz with talk

A bustling crowd then did appear
To see the spectacle
Their murmurs rife with awe and fear
As Carrot played her role

With showy flair the farmer spun
The tale of poor Sprout's fate
And how she prayed to save her son
Before it was too late

Her pious pleas to keep her colt
Were answered from above;
Her mythic crops the clear result
Of holy, graceful love

She played their heartstrings like a lute
Then named her bounty's price:
Two hundred bits for one whole root
And ten bits for a slice.

The mass of ponies stepped right up
Their numbers strong and vast
They threw their coins in Carrot's cup
And bought the carrots fast

And when the old mare first in line
Gave Carrot's crop a bite
She said it tasted quite divine
So juicy, sweet, and right!

The din grew in intensity
The frenzied shouts rang loud
So much that Carrot did not see
A good friend in the crowd

The friend maneuvered her small form
And made it through the row
Soon something soft and oh-so warm
Hugged Carrot from below

The farmer gasped and froze in place
But her defenses fell
When she looked down and saw the face
Of her friend, Sweetie Belle.

With blissful laughs the filly chimed
That she was full of joy
That fate had been so very kind
To Carrot and her boy

For Carrot's crops, undoubtedly
Were sprung from Heaven's seed
To save her humble family
In times of pressing need

With one false smile the farmer said
It sure did seem that way
Then Sweetie asked, her smile so wide,
If Sprout would like to play.

Upon the cart, young Sprout slept tight
For he was frail and sick,
Yet hearing Sweetie's voice so bright
Sure woke him up right quick!

The farmer let the children free
To have a bit of fun
As long as they returned to see
The setting of the sun.

So Carrot Sprout came off the cart
His leave had been received!
And Carrot Top, deep in her heart,
Was secretly relieved

For when she looked at Sweetie Belle
So friendly, kind, and fair
The child whose soul she fed to hell
Was all that she saw there

They both were young and full of life
With lovely sparkling eyes
That she extinguished with her knife
To win her current prize

But then the farmer shook her head
And stood herself up tall
She swallowed up her nagging dread
And answered profit's call.