Down in the valley where nobody goes
There lives a witch with a wart on her nose,
You can hear her cackle when mixing her stew
Grotesque ingredients on which to chew.
Her nails are long and her hair is like straw
She uses her nails to scratch on your door,
You will know when she is about alright
For her cackle is heard in the dead of night.
In the night sky she rides her broom with pride
If you see her your eyes will open wide,
A black cat with her wherever she goes
What she gets up to no one really knows.