Slipping through the beating race of Time
We have scurried, dreaming, nine by nine
Witching, singing, making spells by rhyme
We covet that which for now is thine.
Witches! Pray thee, let us sing our song
We thrive on hatreds amid the throng
Our joy is found in fortune truly long
And spell out our truths where we belong.
Arriving, surviving
Fair witches dreaming
Of mating and hating
Scratching, detaching
Spoiling and boiling
Spitting and hitting
Those whom we hate.
Remorseless in poison
Looting, deforming
Beckoning, storming.
Thrusting and pinching
Stabbing and wasting
Jabbing and tasting
Chasing hot blood.
Rub-a-dub-dub
Rub-a-dub-dub
Rub-a-dub
Rub-a-dub
Rub-a-dub-dub.
Well said creatures, well portrayed
They shall suffer and be sore afraid.
While some might scheme their petty hates
We pull, entice and seal their fates.
Blessed ones, we have re-formed here
Scent you some horrors in this air?
Although our notions are not yet clear
We wait until we shall mount the stair.
We, a thousand years and more, have flown
From pale, torn Macbeth long since cheated
Time cracks open and through we slip
Disasters await those defeated.
