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Enter Poem or Quote (Required) The crone can hear the children's laughter, cold as ice And they exclaim out "witch", not thinking she can hear Their parents then admonish, "Try to be quite nice." Upon her thin, emaciated form they leer Of love forbidden she has paid the awful price Malicious magic powers all the children fear She only wears black, mourning each and ev'ry day Her world is full of dismal, somber shades of grey She loved a wealthy cultured handsome gentleman But she had not the clothes nor proper pedigree And never would be issued any wedding bann For poverty did not amuse his family When finding herself great with child of his, she ran She felt displaced, just like a dead uprooted tree In bleak back alley child unwanted disappeared No chance immoral tainted peccant child be reared Although she lost her core, her heart, her soul, her mind, She wandered dazed and crazy back to town she knew Her fam'ly said, "We never have produced your kind." There was no place to go and nothing left to do But after mournful agony she came to find Satanic powers very evil she would rue She met the incubi in wooded forest glen Although she knew it was an awful, grievous sin Her soul and body raped by evil forces bold Instilled in her the seeds of their foul awful pow'r That grew more potent as she grew extremely old Demolished, shattered self continued still to sour Her sterile body, now quite barren, grew ice cold A vile vexatious tongue lashed out at all each hour Thus she became a bitter venomous old hag While dressed in filthy clothes; on head, a dirty rag She met a fine genteel young man, so good and kind A person reaching out to all in charity Attempted making better lives where he could find He wanted human folk achieving parity However, he had never met an evil mind The succubus seduced his soul with clarity She crippled psyche; took his cash, his bonds and stocks Her languid lips convinced him caged; no keys for locks Then when the moon was full one night, she murdered him Around his vile demise all sorts of tales arose She had dismembered rigid corpse each limb by limb Disposed so very well of ugly bloody clothes The whole ordeal had been a gratifying whim Upon his naked body set a blood red rose His corpse was never found; base tales do not abate Today she suffers vile result of cruel fate
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