The Witch
E. MacDowell
A witch once liv'd near a hazel wood,
In a hut neath a hemlock tree,
That stood alone forbidding and dark
In sound of the groaning sea.
Now a hunter passed one day that way,
A callow youth was he!
He knocked at the door and it opened wide
And creaked in a minor key!
The witch was there, was there!
With a joysome glare,
She ask'd whom he wished to see.
He weakly smiled
But it only riled
The fo fum fee in her ee.
Hobble gobble hobble gobble...
The sun set red o'er the hazel wood.
In the hut 'neath the hemlock tree
The witch moaned over her ginger tea,
"Ah me, a verdant youth was he!"