I have a wart upon my chin,
A very crooked looking grin,
My hands are dust,
My teeth are rust,
I don't give free,
My words of trust,
I am eccentric, you would say,
But not in this medieval day,
It's like they have some kind of snitch,
To rat out everyone as witch,
I have a cat,
And, yes, a hat,
Yet, I'm not rich,
So I'm a witch,
They'll burn, they say,
That's what they'll do,
They'll burn until,
My life is through,
They'll leave me helpless,
On the logs,
I might just suffer,
Whips and flogs,
But, there's one thing,
I didn't say,
That you might think,
To be the way,
Yet, I must tell,
I have an itch,
For magic,
Yes, I am a witch,
I don't play nice,
I don't play well,
Will come back thrice,
But, what the spell?
I very well,
Could care a lot,
Instead,
I'll give them all I've got.
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