“The Witch.”
“Folks said when my granny Eliza bewitched,
She must die for her horrid transgression;
Much ink from his pen the old magistrate pitched,
But he could not extort a confession.
And when in the kettle my granny was thrown
She yelled ‘Death’ and ‘Murder!’ while dying;
And when the black smoke all around us was blown,
As a raven she rose and went flying.
Little black grandmother, feathered so well,