Tuesday, 26 April 2011

dance till dawn and cackle some more

oh deary me, i saw a witch dancing,
sat on her broom and eating french fancies,
she swayed back and forth as she cackled and gorged,
tapping her feet on the grass covered floor,
her pointy black shoes were strewn over there,
and she had no pins to hold up her black hair,
a goblin man stood by her side,
strumming a guitar with passion and pride,
not the goblin nor the witch ever looked over,
to see me crouching amongst the purple clover,
so as night creeped closer i scurried away,
and left her dancing, all through the night until the dawn of the next day.

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