Charcoal burn and bloodroot boil.
Something stirs beneath the soil.
Toss the sulfur, add the bone,
Chanting in a tongue unknown.
Wormwood kisses, mandrake dust,
Bind the potion, numb the lust.
Add a drop of monkshood wine
And have this elixir combine
A bitter taste, a touch of pain,
Of death and of unholy gain.
Then it will echo in your head
The cry of blood untimely shed.
Wolfsbane stings your fiery blood
But you no longer feel the flood
That makes you howl to the sky
And to the Moon you now defy.
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