“Tis I, Marie, you come to see
You there so prim on marble bench
What brings you here week after week
I’m now a charred and crumbling wretch
You heard the tales and need advice
In one of many hundred ways
I’ve seen your kind, oh once or twice
A mouse without, but heart ablaze
What spells I cast to make them beg
What teas they drank, their tongues turned black
Complexion clear to mottled egg
From man to toad, sweet jumping jack
You bring to me black rose’ first bud
That blooms in yonder mistress’ crypt
You’ll let its thorns spill midnight’s blood
To drip down where dust’s lips may sip.”
She brought the bud and spilled her blood
Unholy screeches filled the air
Ravenous flames held tight, she stood
Her face to face with devil’s heir
“They tried to send me back to hell
With fire, prayer, and amulets
I struck a deal with God, oh yes!
To stay and net you devilettes.
Come now my love, it’s time to go
A special place awaits you there
You’ll burn and twist back to and fro
While pitchforks poke you ev’rywhere.”
A/N: Marie in the poem is Marie Laveau, a well-known witch (b. September 10, 1801 – June 15, 1881.) It was inspired by the thought of people visiting her grave to try to glean her secrets.
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