Four witches decided to go out to lunch,

    And then talked of a problem they had:

“Boys are the worst,” said the wickedest witch,

    “I’ve met some.  They truly are bad!”


“So what’s to be done with these creatures?” they said:

    “What punishment’s best for them all?”

“Well, let’s wait for the next, and perform a foul deed:

      Let him crawl, as a fly, on the wall.”


Some boys came along, as the witches sat there,

   And one hurled abuse, passing by.

So one of the witches, her finger outstretched,

    Quickly changed him into a large fly.


Oh don’t worry, dear parents, if John’s not returned,

    With his school things strewn over your hall:

John was the one who was cheeking the witch.

    He’s not late but up there on your wall.


Copyright on all my poems

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