Witches
The witches don their pointed hats,
The witches croak and croon,
The witches ride their broomsticks,
Away beyond the moon.
The witches don their flowing cloaks,
The witches stir their brew
The witches chant their magic spells,
All the dark hours through.
The witches stroke their big black cats,
They comb their locks of gray,
Yet when the first faint daylight comes
The witches hide away.
There Was An Old Witch
There was an old witch
Believe it if you can,
She tapped on the windows
And she ran, ran, ran.
She ran helter skelter
With her toes in the air,
Cornstalks flying from
The old witches' hair.
Swish goes the broomstick,
Meow goes the cat,
Plop goes the hop-toad
Sitting on her hat.
"Whee," chuckled I,
"What fun, what fun!"
It's the Hallowe'en night
When the witches run!
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