A rattle of keys, a floorboard creaks,
Click of a latch, a rusty door hinge squeaks,
A cold wind comes in through a window, up the corridor,
A tendril of green mist creeps,
In through the crack of the part open door,
Day things give way to night things,
It’s time for the bell,
It swings,
It rings,
Rats scurry,
Bats flurry,
As it echoes across the valley,
The hangman once more tallies his tally,
Carves one more notch upon his stick,
The prison clock on Midnight, ticks it’s final tick,
Final plea for forgiveness been plead,
The Preachers final word of prayer has been said,
For one unfortunate, it’s the end of the line,
The Gov’nor checks the clock, gives a nod, it’s time,
The trapdoor opens…..But, the rope doesn’t go taught,
Things don’t go quite as they thought,
For, between a puff of green smoke,
And, the hangman’s disbelieving choke,
All that remained was a pile of her clothes,
Green mist oozing from every stitch,
Turns out, history will record….
She REALLY was a witch!