You lost your bearings in the woods
On your head a bloody hood
A witch house against the skyline
Swift walk through the high pines
On the door three knocks
Knock, knock, knock
To your side sits a crock
Bones, skulls and a broom
Tonight's a full moon
You open the door and step on the floor
Whitchy aura to the core
Jar spells and herby smell
Spirits toll the bell
The witch is here, my dear
When she claps crows appear
To be continued...