Pale and wan was her face,
Her eyes a sultry green,
Her nose all bent and twisted,
Her black hair straggly unclean,
Her mouth large and toothless,
Her lips the colour of port,
Her cheeks sunken and hollow,
On her chin was an oversized wart,
Her spindly hands were bent,
Her fingers looked like claws,
Her legs were all dirty and dank,
And were covered in septicy sores,
She wore a very strange hat,
A pointed and wide brimmed affair,
And a cloak that was old and raggy,
With spiders at home on it there,
She wore underneath this a dress,
A black and shapeless thing,
All covered in cobwebs and dirt,
And a belt made of old string,
At her side there lay a cat,
A friend who she really adored,
It was black and so evil looking,
And it had rather nasty sharp claws,
In the corner there lay a broomstick,
Made out of old branches from trees,
A strange looking symbol upon it,
Saying 'Won't you come fly with me please,
And on the old fireplace being heated,
Was a dark iron cauldron so big,
And inside were lots of strange things,
Including the head of a pig,
Then she uttered the words we feared,
Come sit down and share in some tea,
Well its anything but boring,
When we go to great grandmas for tea
sue crocker
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bewitching-tale/
