A WITCHES RECIPE
BY FIONA CUMMINGS
A pie of mud
Some vampires blood
A slimy worm
Does this make you squirm?
Some doggy drool
And donkey poo
The oven’s on
To bake your scone
Don’t turn around
To hear a boo
You are the host
For the ghost
He’s extra hungry
And more than angry
So, bake your best
He’s putting you to the test
If you fail
Your face so pale
What will happen to you?
Pastry of choux
Or should that be shoe?
A soul on the base
With a wraparound lace
But who wore that last?
Is cooking a task?
Have you lost your appetite?
Turn on your light
As you never know
A sheet so white
Like winters snow
May visit you at home
As somewhere out there they roam
For their food
Where do they go?
Well tonight they are dining with you
Isn’t that good?
Take a bite
Don’t get a fright
Just make sure it’s cooked right
This recipe has been passed down
Most ingredients you get from the ground
Cooked by hundreds of witches
Served up in huge dishes
No need for salt and pepper
Mop it all up with Uncles sweater
Now you feel better
Enjoy your meal
All that’s left is the cheal
You have your potion
Open wide
Don’t be scared of those who have died
Turn off your oven
Don’t let it smoke
Or you may choke
Stop cooking
Listen
Did you hear a croak?
I almost forgot the topping
A witches frog
Just for decoration
Don’t kill it
Make sure it will fit
Get it to sit
On its bottom
You are doing well
People will be full of admiration
Sounds of chopping
Plopping
Hopping
Slopping
Is it time to go to the table?
I hope you have enjoyed
This spooky fable
© Fiona Cummings
