To a magical prompt of black cats nestled 'round a pot of witchy stew!
A familiar cat, too long imbued
As friend to witch, fact we eschew:
Just because our color is black
Doesn’t mean we serve as witches hack!
Arise my feline friends, unite
And cast a spell to end our plight!
So it be bad luck to cross our path?
Wait until our witches bath!
With toe of boot and witch’s hat,
Brussels sprouts and ball I hack,
With a bit of catnip (just for fun)
The end of witches has begun!
Sparkle, sparkle in cauldron boil;
No more maligned, no more to toil.
Glitter, glimmer: no more the sap
And we can dream on convenient lap.
Thus we create our witchy stew
with claw from me and hair from you.
Long dead mouse, well chewed toy,
a bit of arrogance, a bit of joy.
On this night, and in this hour
We call upon our feline power.
For feline grace is good, you see,
As we wish it: let it be.
Fear not ye witches of love and light:
Ye do not share evil one’s plight.
We do no evil with our charm
For not even witches can we harm.
But rest assured: when boiled long:
The evil ones sing different song.
There’s nothing like a bath, you see,
To relax the witchery!
Ere she arises, pliant, soft:
No more her broom shall rise aloft.
No more her cackle will be heard—
But voice as sweet as yonder bird.
Evil will be switched tis true
And she will live as me and you.
As lullabies the song she hums:
No more wicked this way comes!