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I don't have a broom.
Will a Swiffer mop do?
To fly 'round the room
Then clean up the loo.
My cauldron is dry.
No newts, toads or bats
Or sheep's eyes to fry,
Just Friskies for cats.
My black pointed hat
And my long, coal black dress
Are so wrinkled that
They need a good press.
I'll go out tonight,
Even though I'm a wreck.
If the mop won't take flight
I'll use the Oreck.
It's hard to be witchy
In these modern times.
They say I'm just bitchy
For misdemeanor crimes.
Your fortune I'll tell,
With Tarot cards, dear.
The future is swell,
But your past isn't clear.
Guess what I'm drinking?
Don't it look scary?
I know what you're thinking,
But it's just a Bloody Mary.
I'll light up a candle
And hex up a spell.
One with a handle
And zipper as well.
One of us, Martha Stewart,
Her empire is fading.
She's headed for court
For insider trading
Modern day witchcraft
Really ain't too bad.
But I now feel a draft
When I fly all sky-clad.
No more need for a fire.
Stinky smoke in the cave.
There's witches for hire
With their own microwave!
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