The Lore of Witch Marceline of the Veil

Witches must, as witches do,

Play with fate and fire.

Emboldened by the sun, they fly;

Hair like razor wire.

Why're witches whittled down

To whimsicality?

A brew of garden herbs should heal

Our Mother, land and sea,

And, with a wart and frog-leg stew,

A love of life soon sprouts,

Why worry what a witch will do?

Your life is running out.

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