THE OLD MOON WITCH
Sunny Rowe [c. 1983]
When the pale gold moon lifts high at night,
and forest creatures scurry out of sight;
Then across the darkened, shrouded gloom
Comes a high-hatted figure riding on a broom.
She's a dandy crone in black gown and hat
as she stalks the heavens with her one-eyed cat.
Their yowling cries climb to fevered pitch,
and the night belongs to the old moon witch.
With gleeful cackle she swoops over land;
Every black-hearted villain at her command.
While she shrieks and dips, and onward she flies,
fetching at random lost souls for a prize.
If you want to see her, if you want to look,
better go down early; find a secret nook
where you can hide out safely 'til the morning light
from demon forces on Halloweve night.
By cauldron bubbling she sets her broom well,
Calling forth all the demons up from hell.
Crying Up you Jackels, there's work to be done
before the horizon meets the morning sun.
From trembling earth, romping in disguise,
Your darkest nightmares dance before your eyes!
Your heartbeat quickens and your mouth goes dry,
with petticoat rustles of the witch passing by.
She mounts her broom lifting towards the sky.
All earth will shudder, many spirits cry
until silver light gives way to the gold,
The work of the pagans will be swift and bold.
When you're safely home, secure in your room,
You'll think of a witch and a cat on a broom.
Though demons vanish when daylight is met,
the Old Moon Witch you will never forget!
Sunny Rowe [c. 1983]
When the pale gold moon lifts high at night,
and forest creatures scurry out of sight;
Then across the darkened, shrouded gloom
Comes a high-hatted figure riding on a broom.
She's a dandy crone in black gown and hat
as she stalks the heavens with her one-eyed cat.
Their yowling cries climb to fevered pitch,
and the night belongs to the old moon witch.
With gleeful cackle she swoops over land;
Every black-hearted villain at her command.
While she shrieks and dips, and onward she flies,
fetching at random lost souls for a prize.
If you want to see her, if you want to look,
better go down early; find a secret nook
where you can hide out safely 'til the morning light
from demon forces on Halloweve night.
By cauldron bubbling she sets her broom well,
Calling forth all the demons up from hell.
Crying Up you Jackels, there's work to be done
before the horizon meets the morning sun.
From trembling earth, romping in disguise,
Your darkest nightmares dance before your eyes!
Your heartbeat quickens and your mouth goes dry,
with petticoat rustles of the witch passing by.
She mounts her broom lifting towards the sky.
All earth will shudder, many spirits cry
until silver light gives way to the gold,
The work of the pagans will be swift and bold.
When you're safely home, secure in your room,
You'll think of a witch and a cat on a broom.
Though demons vanish when daylight is met,
the Old Moon Witch you will never forget!
