She's Superstitious - Morgan Franklin
She’s superstitious.
Salt lines protect her dwellings At any given time. Devoted to the truth, For it’s bad luck to lie. For every set of crossed fingers There’s trouble lying ahead. Get home before the witching hour, Or you’ll sure be dead. Thyme in every pocket, To keep the courage strong. Hawthorne, Hemlock, Holly Thistle They scream that she is wrong. They throw their stones from far away Flames reflecting in their eyes But soon they all will be sorry Revenge lust never dies. A trick, a trap, a trancing call, An impetuous spellbound lure. Bewitched, she will ensnare you A death sentence cannot cure. You will face her fury now, Of that you can be sure. The fire cannot burn a witch, She’s here forevermore. |
Photo credit:
Kat Tuggle |