The Poetry Bus - Trick or Treat, Sick or Sweet

It's Halloween, Samhain, Day of the Dead, call it what you will.  It's that creepy time of year when winter really starts to get his teeth into the ailing year.  The clocks have gone back and soon it'll be Christmas (which is more scary, if you ask me).

So, this week's prompting by liz over here, was about the spook-fest of Halloween.  Being a poet of little brain, I couldn't manage a triolet, so here's my doggerel, which may just about fit the prompt of 'Pardon Me While I Scream'.  Or not.  Anyhoo, go to Liz's link above to find some proper poems.

A Witch's Lament

There was a time, the old witch said
(Absently boiling a baby's head)
That folk would tremble at our name
But lately things just aren't the same.

There was a time, the old witch cried
(Tossing ears like pancakes, as they fried)
When we sailed the moonlight on our broom
Now it sweeps cobwebs from the room.

There was a time, the old witch boasted
(Prodding at puppies as they roasted)
When we'd blind the eye, and the mind beguile
I must admit, it's been awhile.

There was a time, the old witch muttered
(Laying out fingers, all nicely buttered)
When we'd freeze the blood, cause hearts to quail
Not star in some popular children's tale

There was a time, the old witch moaned
(Arranging kittens, all neatly boned)
When we were dark as dark could be
But now it seems, we're all P.C.

There was a time, the old witch said
(Still a-boiling that baby's head)
When to be a witch was to be a rotter.
But no more, thanks to Goody-Two-Shoes Potter!