Blood boils in the cauldron, As the poison dashes 'gainst the froth,
Oh! the hissing crimson brew Why so vile, for it is just me?
You, my ichor; I, your vessel strong-- Oh, still why you howl at me all night long?
Oh, damn you, who pricks my soul with pins, I am stung strong, already by my sins,
You cast such a spell from a hundred score miles away, Take some days rest, don't you see the boil so rough?
oh, pardon; you don't see And pardon, for I see all.
And now my eyes have started to melt too The whites run down as the whites of an egg And fall into the seething concoction And its bubbles pop into my face
Mocking me, for a useless witch I am-- Cackling with faces only made of squawking mouths
I stand here still, keep stirring the potion sizzling loud Inhaling the fumes of my inevitable doom.