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.
Copyright © Jim Slaughter | Year Posted 2022
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