She sewed a stitch that raggedy bitch
A snicky stitch from a wickedy witch
With fingers ridged from hours of toil
So hard such work, so sad to spoil.
A twist, a turn, a needle stab,
The spell it grew and grew,
’til all at once the scissors snipped,
And the thread and knots held true,
She smiled a smile that wickedy witch
That boiled the brothers blood
Who’ve left their sister there, alone
And fled, their yellow blood!
As they ran and ran,
To chase the sight away,
Of sister left as marionette,
For a wicked witch to play.
© Cathie Tufnail
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