'Come, zoom on my broom!'

       Called a witch to a mole.
'Oh please come and join me

       And leave your warm hole!'

'Oh no!' said the mole.

     'I am frightened of heights,
But if I were not,

      Well, perhaps then I might.'

​

'Come, zoom on my broom!'

     Called the witch to a horse,
'But the problem’s that

       You’re very heavy, of course.'

'Ride on your broomstick?'

      He gave a loud neigh:
'Get going old witchy!

       I’m eating my hay.'

​

'Come, zoom on my broom!'

       Called the witch to a hen:
'It’s much better up here

      Than down there in a pen.'

'Cluck cluck,' cried the hen.

      'Oh, we hen’s never fly,
And it’s safer down here

      Than up there in the sky.'

​

'Come, zoom on my broom!'

       Called the witch to a boy.
'A nice ride on my broomstick

        You’d surely enjoy!'

'Ooooh goodee!' said he 

      And, then holding on tight,
Off they both went on that

      Warm summer night. 

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Copyright on all my poems

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