Four noble witches down in the glen 
Gather at twilight-time to begin 
Chanting to light the fires within 
Prepping the cauldron for use therein
 
One gives the bones of a love now lost 
One donates gold to cover the cost 
One offers herbs refreshed from the frost 
One offered wine while chanting her prost
 
Once they disrobed, they danced by the fire  
While the cauldron seethed in fierce desire
Weaving magic with all they aspire 
Giving their spell room to transpire
  
Dancing beneath the eye of the moon 
These four women began to commune 
Lost within a mysterious tune 
Of which the cauldron tried to attune
 
The witches danced ‘til dawn’s early light 
Blessing the magic conceived that night 
When they were through, I watched them take flight 
But their spell, my friends, is not mine to cite