Centuries-old potion bottles are strewn about a witch’s shack. Her cauldron bubbles over as she stirs her mysterious brew. She utters a spell under her breath and a giant puff of smoke erupts from the cauldron…
Eye of toad and wing of crow,
In the cauldron, we do throw.
Deadly hemlock fizzles nicely
Must be measured so precisely.
Light a candle, burn its wick,
What other poison shall we pick?
A dash of salt, it’s no trouble,
We love to watch our potion bubble!
