In the middle of the night
Toiling, boiling, out of sight.
Lurking on in caves or beaches.
What's to fear? Undulating leaches,
Bulbous tongues, or blotting popped pustules.
Nay, only thrice was found she on thy vestibule.
In normal dress, and broad day light,
not so pretty, and not so bright.
Mourning morning not such a creature.
Call the judge! Wake every preacher!
Feigned ignorance won't get you far
Just look, they've already set the bar,
That from the breeze your limbs will swing
When like the others forced to sing
Of demons and charms and heresy,
They shall force your tongue, by my troth, even upon me.
For which I might procure the same fate as you,
Pricked and drained, with a blackish hue.
O please! This girl is none to fear!
Throw her in water up to her ear!
See by the way she sink in foam,
Splash her with holy water and hear not a groan!
These lips hath spilled no blood,
No pact with the Devil, no sign of false flood.
Spare her and likewise me,
For I know if she be tried, so tried I too shall be.

The fire! The smoke! The Flames!
Suffocated with chaos. Who else to blame?
The feckless masses, like sheep they believe.
*No mercy, no God, no time for reprieve.