The Witch's Farm

Abuse of illegitimate children is a sad and unfortunate story. This poem is about that.

The Witch’s Farm


Get off your high horse
You bastard’s son
The morning is early
The day’s just begun

Don’t give me that look
With your dark, blank eye
Or I’ll beat you to death
Or at least till you cry

I’m not one to care
And I will not start now
Now hurry yourself
You blasted young cow

I’ll beat you with horsewhips
Or shoot your bad leg
You’ll do as I say
And don’t you dare beg

The cops have a way
Of finding the dead
Of all those dumb brats
Who don’t bow their heads

But they’ll never connect
The deaths with my hands
I’m smart and they’re stupid
You understand?

So, get with your chores
You’re the slave in this house
Your bastard of a father
Was never my spouse

You’re a smear on the sheets
That I cannot erase
I swear, if you act stupid
That won’t be the case

I’ll hang you by foot
And strip you clean off
Then beat you to heck
Till you bleed and you cough

I’ll send my guard dogs
To tear at your skin
Now, start with your chores
OR I WILL BEGIN!