Witches holler when warlocks bellow;
They begat their sins to carry to hell
where for them fish fly and birds swim in
an endless backwards world
made to make insane sense;
Here, where no stars or sweet compassion dwell,
souls are held in torment as unloved shells;
Ominous shadows did their sins (or so they tell)
while black bats carry them
further to their self-made hells;
There they with master warlocks spin,
weaving more diabolical tales
To be picked up at the end when their
souls (if gained sane sense)
will hear the call of Freedom’s bell once again.
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