There stood a witch stirring her cauldron, old and pocked, she was quite the gorgon;
And that malicious crone did her wicked work for the Devil:
Satan, that King of all vile sins, who smiles with his beastly grin.
In went bitter mugwart to kill the wastrel
In went her special ingredient, a pinch of fresh witch-hazel.
Then that witch cackled!
Ginger, Spider legs, Eye of Newt, Unicorn Blood, and Bat's Head Root.
A handfull of yarrow to make him tremble.
And finally three pickled slugs, to kill him via poisoned blood.
When she was done, he'd be nothing more than spectral,
And then she could finally win her battle!
And again she cackled!
As she gazed in her crystal ball, she saw the future that would befall.
How trilling was killing; the king dead in his castle.
The king who so wronged her! That crook! That pest! That rascal!
He would pay for breaking her heart, it was TRUE evil.
She cried not cackled.
This poem is based around the structure of Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven.