The Witch and the Merchant
written by: Dave Whippman
Midnight is the witching hour,
a time of dark uncanny power.
It is of such that I must tell:
a story that does not end well.
One midnight (it was Halloween)
A broomstick in the sky was seen,
and on it sat a sorceress,
an evil witch, as you may guess.
Her skin was green, with many warts,
her mind was filled with evil thoughts.
Then looking down, the ghastly witch
espied a merchant, fat and rich.
The gleeful hag went swooping down
and pinned her victim to the ground.
The merchant begged, “Unhand me, Miss!”
“Not yet,” she grinned. “Give me a kiss.”
“Kiss YOU?” he groaned. “I’d rather die!
You look like something in a sty.”
The witch replied, “I think you’ll find
that very soon you change your mind.”
She then intoned a magic spell –
the merchant muttered, “What the hell!”
The hag was gone without a trace –
a Playboy girl stood in her place!
The merchant said, “Just look at you!
My fantasies are coming true.
We’ll have that kiss now, what d’you say?”
The sorceress replied, “No way!”
Now I’m as beautiful as this,
why give some fat old slob a kiss?”
The merchant begged, “Please work your charms!
I long to take you in my arms.
For just one kiss, I’d pay a ransom.
Your spells could make me slim and handsome.
You changed yourself with just one spell –
now do the same for me as well!”
The witch just shook her pretty head.
“I can’t work miracles,” she said.
“I’m off to find a handsome prince.”
The merchant’s not been heard from since.
For any man, the moral’s this:
If some witch asks YOU for a kiss,
give her a smoooch and don’t be hateful:
a Playboy girl would be less grateful.
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