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Continued . . . 

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As those mystical strains lacerated the dark,
Without thinking, Tam called: 'Well done ‘Cutty Sark’!'
     As his words ripped the heavens the bonfire went out
     And the witches and warlocks gave a frightening shout.

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In fear for his life, Tam leapt onto his mare
And, with danger around, Meg cut through the air.
     With the witches behind her, she moved with great speed
     And the sight of the river was their greatest need.

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Young Nannie, the temptress, was close on their trail,
And, on reaching the bridge, she caught hold of Meg’s tail
     Which, with one mighty wrench, came away in her hand
     But the strength of the water no witch can withstand.

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They leapt onto the bridge leaving Nannie behind
Fleeing far from black magic, designed for mankind.
     The river had saved them –  a narrow escape -
     But behind on the banks stood some sinister shapes.

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The wind carried ear-piercing, deafening screams
And, to Tam, his escape seemed the subject of dreams.
     This story of witchcraft, of warlocks and flame
     Now lies with the sailing ship bearing the name

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Of the petticoat worn by the witch on that night
Who danced with the coven, whose feet then took flight
       And who, by the bridge, where her witchcraft did fail,
       Was left, with pursuers, clung fast to Meg’s tail.

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Think well, as you raise up that last glass of ale,
Then head for your home, of this cautionary tale.
      If you see things abnormal, please keep to your track
      And, with thoughts of your bed, don’t you ever look back!

 

Copyright on all my poems 

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