Coven of Nine

There once was a coven of nine
Who spent a whole night in a pine.
They fell into trances
While sitting on branches
And sipping mulberry wine.

This coven, not known for their brain
Forgot to come out of the rain.
And all through the night
their spirits took flight
While humming a Starhawk refrain.

They visited Napal and Tibet
The wisdom of the Llama to get.
But the Dahli was away
to speak in Bombay
So they spoke at length to his pet.

A spy by the name of Crawling Fred
Was concerned with what would be said
For witches you see
are ever so free
With ideas they place in your head.

So old Fred climbed into a pot
It was black, it was old, but not hot.
For he had to get near
Or he just couldn't hear
The words of that coven, "What rot!"

But the pot had a life of it's own.
from a small iron ignot it had grown.
You know it is best
You know I don't jest
To leave living cauldrons alone.

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