arsenic and old mace
by swan song
echoes in a deep and dank dark cave
recoils back to the patched eyed slave
the voice wales "how much more can this rotting corpse give?"
the echos replies "how bare can bare bones be stripped to barely live?"
toil and toil and cauldron bubble
fire burns flitting floating above this rubble
blood, sweat and tears stream down a ghostly face
mourning loss of hope and dash of peppered mace
a black cat, a witch, and a black raven cry
as a crystal ball reveals the blind witches scry
In the corner lies a voo-doo doll with pins
A clock chimes midnight and out a cuckoos spins
"Que Sera Sera and eye of newt and tongue of bat
what ever will be and some of this and none of that"
the gliding spectre chants into the putrid boiling pot
"it is what it is..this is all that we've got."
sparks form like cobras ready to strike their prey
the witch cackles and she grabs a silver trey
They feast on the bile and the grist and the griddle
as the farmer in the dale plays them hey diddle diddle
They huff and the puff and the blew the stew cold
They dust the top and scraped off the mold
they ate their scraps and they slobbered up the slime
they licked the tray clean with the dust and the grime.
"Que Sera Sera whatever will be will be" they sang and wept
The future's not ours to see and with the poison they slept.