I am a Witch, and a kind old Witch,

There’s many a one knows that —

Alone I live in my little dark house

With Pillycock, my cat.

A girl came running through the night,

When all the winds blew free: —

"O mother, change a young man’s heart

That will not look on me.

O mother, brew a magic mead

To stir his heart so cold."

"Just as you will, my dear," said I;

"And I thank you for your gold."

So here am I in the wattled copse

Where all the twigs are brown,

To find what I need to brew my mead

As the dark of night comes down.

Primroses in my old hands,

Sweet to smell and young,

And violets blue that spring in the grass

Wherever the larks have sung.

With celandines as heavenly crowns

Yellowy-gold and bright;

All of these, O all of these,

Shall bring her Love’s delight.

But orchids growing snakey green

Speckled dark with blood,

And fallen leaves that curled and shrank

And rotted in the mud,

With blistering nettles burning harsh

And blinding thorns above;

All of these, O all of these

Shall bring the pains of Love.

Shall bring the pains of Love, my Puss,

That cease not night or day,

The bitter rage, nought can assuage

Till it bleeds the heart away.

Pillycock mine, my hands are full

My pot is on the fire.

Purr, my pet, this fool shall get

Her fool’s desire.