Double, Double, Toil and Etc, Etc, Etc

With a nod to Macbeth's three weird sisters... Midst rats, black cats, and screeching bats, Cackling crones in pointy hats Add a rag, a bone, a hank of hair To a bubbling pot in their witches' lair. Next a drop of your blood to mix into the stew As they mutter and moan o'er this most loathsome brew. Harken well as the hags recite ancient verses That invoke magic spells and malevolent curses. An elixir for love, another for fame, If fortune's your goal, play the witches' game. If malice or spite for another's your bent, They've special potions for ladies, and some just for gents. But be wary, my friends, for I'm telling you true, When the game is played out, and the bill has come due, Don't try to renege, and don't be a griper, If you dance to his music, you must pay the piper. Pay promptly on time, don't default or denounce, 'cause witches are bit**es when checks start to bounce.