“Dear Kitty-cat, black and pretty, tell us what to do in order to get away from thy mistress, the witch?”

Pity on the poor soul
Do your work with seeds of sympathy falling from your eyes
Stitch up the wounds of dead flesh
Beat on broken drums and sing in time with the willow branch
When the screams of the innocent drown out the howl of the wolf sing too

The birch tree lisped with its leaves, “Thou hast never put a simple thread over my branches and the little darlings adorned them with a pretty ribbon.”