She Sells Death
He cheats on me by night
And beats me by day
Oh what shall I do about this fray
Well I know a lady who sells death
One bite and in Hell he shall lay
The concoction is simple not hard to make
Slow cook it a hour and ten minutes to bake
It tastes like heaven
But I promise he'll be dead by seven
It contains a little of this
And a lot of that
A little goat's urine
And a pinch of devil's fat
And by morning
You'll be in mourning
Copyright © Malcolm Dyer | Year Posted 2016
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