Some things in life
Are strange to behold
Just like in the story
You're about to be told
Of a Witch named Salem
Who welcomed her dower
She saw the great beauty
That came from her power
She brewed great potions
For generous prices
With a basket of verdure
And her garden of spices
Her black cat purred loudly
As he walked beside her
While she gathered up herbs
For a black-magic cider
When People saw smoke
From her chimney rise
She was open for business
And there to advise
If the village had troubles
It's to her they would go
For elixirs and spells
Only she would know
Her small shack was littered
With trinkets and charms
Some ward against evil
Some protect against harm
She smelled of sweet incense
Like Sage, thyme, and myrrh
From stirring her cauldron
Mixing curses and cures
And when the moon rose
A large silver pearl
She'd dance underneath it
As the night would unfurl
As it grew later
Grew quiet and still
She moved through the trees
Embracing the chill
And on clear evenings
When the clock ticked midnight
She'd hop on her broom
For a spell-caster's flight
