This is the website of Yasmina von Amsberg

Witch Hunt

A witch! A witch!

the people cry with glee

Puritans clad in black

sought out the guilty party

 

A witch! A witch!

a murmur goes through the crowd

soft and slow

cold and low

yet so very strangely loud

 

Within the dimly-lit courtroom

a trial is being held

a woman is suspected

for making livestock unwell

 

This woman is a social misfit

she lives all alone

tending to her cat

and the herb garden that grows ’round her home

 

When she walks thro’ the town

she gains disapproving stares

the people glare at her fiercely

as she stops to purchase their wares

 

One warm autumnal morning

she hears a knock at her front door

she peeks outside her window

and softly whispers ‘Oh, Lord’

 

For there, outside her door

stand people from the village, in a state of dire unrest

one of them holds a warrant

a warrant for her arrest

 

Here she stands now

her cheeks a nervous red

as she is sentenced harshly

to hang from her neck; hang until dead

 

She softly cries out ‘Help!’

but already she knows it is too late

quickly she is led away

to meet her oncoming  fate

 

Dead within moments

 

Now the courthouse stands empty

where would the witches be?

Up that hill, past that rock, behind that grove of trees

 

there lies a darkening clearing

lit up very well

by a roaring ritual bonfire

the Witches are casting a spell

 

the coven members chant

as they remember times gone by

remembering the pariahs

and all those others who died

 

Modern-day Witches aren’t burned at the stake

at least, not for practicing the Craft

but they are often misunderstood

as taking the ‘left-hand path’

 

A witch! A witch!

Past and present

then and now

we shall never forget…

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