Rita LeeA Poem by David Lewis PagetRita Lee ‘The villagers of La Sant Marie Are beating upon our door, What have you done, my Rita Lee, What are they knocking for? You haven’t been out and about again, Playing your silly tricks, I locked your broom in the closet room, Your cape, I threw in the Styx.’ ‘You’d better explain, my Rita Lee, They stomped your hat in the mud, And now they’re gathered around the house, And some are calling for blood. They took the chair to the ducking pond And now they’re calling for you, You’d better come down my Rita Lee And tell me, what did you do?’ ‘I only gave them their just desserts, I filled their cellars with rats, Then sent their cats to the countryside And curdled all of their vats, You know they’ve never been nice to me, They called me a wanton b***h, And even worse, when they really curse, Accuse me of being a witch!’ ‘But you are a witch, my Rita Lee, Born with the evil eye, You had a choice, you could just be nice, Or bad, and you wonder why, The villagers won’t put up with you, You’re running right out of luck, Remember my words at the village pond When you’re about to be ducked.’ ‘They might be in for a big surprise,’ Said Rita Lee as she fell Into the arms of the villagers, Kicking and cursing hell. The little village La Sant Marie Is empty of screams and wails, I found her wand by the village pond Along with hundreds of snails. David Lewis Paget
© 2020 David Lewis PagetReviews
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Added on May 30, 2020Last Updated on May 30, 2020 Author
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