And so I drink another cup
Of Scottish Breakfast tea
And know the moon is coming up –
Or very soon shall be.

And, with the fast-approaching night,
I see the witches ride
To join the Devil at the rite
Where each becomes his bride.

And so, to keep the world afloat,
I bow to the desire
To take the witches by the throat
And throw them on the fire.

And, as the smoke blots out the sun,
I’m satisfied with what I’ve done.

Photo by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash

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