Witch Heritage
author unknown
There was an old woman tossed up in a basket
Seventeen times as high as the moon
but where she was going, I could not but ask it
for under her arm she carried a broom.
Old woman, old woman, old woman, said I!
Where are you going away to, so high?
To sweep the cobwebs out of the sky
May I come with you? Aye, by and by.
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