Abigail Primpot,
Abigail Primpot,
              …stirred her iron ***,

Abigail Primpot,
Abigail Primpot,
             …home of death and rot,

Abigail Primpot sewed and stitched a lot.
She produced a sweater that shined like treasure,
                           …and no one else has ever seen much better!

Abigail Primpot learned to cook from old wives’ tales in an old dusty book.

Frog legs, bird gizzard, wolf’s bane, small lizard, one rotten apple and one sharp tooth, …cup of mead, some spices and a bottle of vermouth, a chant and a song and a wizard’s spell, …and a whirlpool in the cauldron that went to Hell! Abigail Primpot likes to stitch ‘cause she is a witch and though she was quite young; she lived with snakes, bees and scorpions and things that stung!

Abigail Primpot would become a Beast when she wrapped herself in her shining fleece!

Abigail Primpot,
              ...her home stunk of death and rot,
Abigail Primpot,
              ...sewed and stitched a lot,
Abigail Primpot,
              ...she had an iron ***,

Abigail Primpot,
Abigail Primpot.

Abigail, Abigail, keeps haunting me
I don’t remember when it started
Has to be the first seed of love
That planted Abigail in my heart
And etched it there for good….
In Martha I saw Abigail, in Ethel
In them all I chased Abigail
They were good, all of them
Flawless, spotless, free from blame
Lovable, dependable, transparent….
Yet I kept seeking Abigail
With a hallucinatory torment!
Did ever my eyes touch her once?
In a dream woven with fleeting romance
Or her face shone once in the moon
And melted as dew drops in the dazed dark!
Abigail my perpetual phantom
I neither get her nor fathom
I age, Abigail is ageless
Always there, but beyond embrace!