THREE WICKED WITCHES AND THE GIANT CAT

Three wicked witches
Went to the Devil’s acre
In a moonless night,
Beyond the seventh grave,
They lighted up a fire
And danced beneath the stars.
A shrieking tune was heard
While magic wonders done.
A cat was near by,
With stripes and yellow eyes.
Swinging from a tree
It meowed for boiling rats.
The first wicked witch
Showed her tongue
And sprayed her stench.
The second wicked witch
Chocked with a bat
And barked a nervous cough,
Whilst the third wicked witch
Howled and burped her wrath.
But this was not a cat
That one can hold and pet.
It was tall and fat and mean,
Like a pile of broken bones,
And a pig that had too much.
The first wicked witch
Growled and scratched her feet.
The second wicked witch
Snored and looked for tics.
The third wicked witch
Spit and said all this:
“Now there’s a giant cat,
That serve our purpose could
Let’s pluck its eyes at once
And hang them from our ears.
Skin it too, we must,
To dandify ourselves
And cook its blood at last
To make our dinner soup”.
But the Lord of Blackness
Is as whimsical as sly.
The hunk had wished for more
Than mere boiling rats.
Stretching out its spine,
The cat began to smile.
And yawning like a cave,
It opened wide its jaws
And ate a lavish chunk.
The fire went on burning,
The graves were hushed and silent.
Gone were the witches,
For now and for all times.
Under the glittering stars
The cat fell asleep.