The smoke, the billows, fires flare and winds; strange noises that perplex,

the scented attar waffles through and the bubbling of the brew,

all of this in rit-u-al, we find in the witches kylix.

Who does she send to Charon’s boat to cross great river Styx?

After she’s been boiling them, in the peculiar witch’s kylix...

The onlookers strain at the fantail feathers of a hazy orangish moon,

all the animals and hidden watchers are captured by a swoon,

for something carried in the smoke makes everything betwixt,

and no one knows exactly what, is in the witches kylix?

Some saw smoke against a clear night, while lesser ones caught a smell,

watery mouths, sweet tasty smells, so tantalizing, lead them to a boiling hell.

Who thinks to ask, who begs a question, an old woman and cauldron in the sticks?

Who cooks at night out in the dark with just an iron kylix?

Her eyes reflect when you show yourself, you shudder at the thought,

a predator, hunter on the prowl, perhaps you is what she sought?

That evil star-shine is the signal for you know what is this game,

but the hunger pangs and roiling stomach nearly double you in pain.

You ignore the bones of many sizes, as wolves whimper in the distance,

and you realize to late it seems that you are her subsistence,

-bubbling in the witch’s kylix.

This one is blackened dark as pitch; two handles shaped each like a six,

and you inside cooking quickly, a classic witches kylix!

Beg the night, pray to the moon, slap your face and make it quick,

or you’ll be caught by the swoon and end up in the witches kylix.