The Witches' Dance On Crowborough Road

Written by: anne p. murray

Her hair- black as a raven’s breast 
   Eyes glowing through orbs of green 
She dances covertly in the dark of night 
    Where not another soul is seen 
Warbling a haunting, enchanted tune  
 
Chanting, dancing around the fire 
   Under light of a full October moon 
Questions lie on lips to desire 
   Is she malevolent or benevolent? 
Never a soul has been so bold 
   To tell their story... too hesitant! 
 
She possesses many powers, many tales 
   Lifting her hands as she chants 
Red mist swirling, twirling behind her veil 
   Eyes brightening in orbs of green 
Chilly mist crawling over her skin 
   Under an oak tree dancing unseen 
 
Cloaked under her crimson, blood red shawl 
   Strange sounds and names uttered 
As she boldly dances, chanting out her call 
   Wild, fierce, bold and free 
Like a chameleon she changes 
    In red blazing firelight so unseen 
 
Suddenly, the ground shakes with deafening roar 
    Bursts of electric blue, beam above her head 
Voltaic forces join, shaking earth’s woodland floor 
    Down the path, robes flowing, blowing in the breeze 
Many forces about, electrifying ground and air  
Gathering together, chanting, dancing under the trees 
    Many denizens of this land astound 
Warlocks and witches cast their magic here 
    As their caldron bubbles over ground
  
They come together from lake and fen 
    Here they meet from darkened lair 
Ferny dells and rocky dens 
    “Make room”, they call in pitch black night 
Bringing many potions to mix them well 
    Taking wool, wand, bone and eyes, what a fright! 
Casting out and about their magic spell

Mixing tooth and tongue and nail
 Under fire, water, earth and dung 
   They mix the caldron, hold the flail 
Hemlock, henbane, adder’s blood 
   Chanting out, “By thee we bound upon this road"! 
Suddenly the spell’s been cannily brewed 
   Using blood, eyes and tongue of a toad
 
As quickly as they came, they hastily leave 
   Departing thru forest dark, entering private glades
Leaving once again, only to return   
   On another chilly October full moon eve    
"Merry Meet", they all say, as they make haste to flee 
   Then they'll secretly meet once again...
Where they’ll chant and mix another magic urn

                                                             #_#