Witches’ Sabbat

Going to the place of promise,

where fairies and devils dwell.

Taking salves, fearless, lawless,

witches gather to cast their spell.

The others, foreign, unknown,

Spirits dance along with them all.

Alive and dead, young and crone.

Plotting, scheming, witches enthrall.

Familiar selves ride upon those hags,

all together they take to the sky.

Caught around an otherworldly snag,

bursts of mad ecstasy as they fly.

Moans and cries call out, “More! More!”

A scene of addicting intoxication.

Their bodies rising upon the floor,

groans go forth full of temptation.

Until the very peak, they shall go forth,

Weasel, Cat, Toad, and Rabbit.

To all corners, East, West, South, North,

The end of the Witches’ Sabbat.

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