The Little Creature
Twinkum, twankum, twirlum and twitch
My great grandam—She was a Witch.
Mouse in wainscot, Saint in niche—
My great grandam—She was a Witch;
Deadly nightshade flowers in a ditch—
My great grandam—She was a Witch;
Long though the shroud it grows stitch by stitch—
My great grandam—She was a Witch;
Wean your weakling before you breech—
My great grandam—She was a Witch;
The fattest pig’s but a double flitch—
My great grandam—She was a Witch;
Nightjars rattle, owls scritch—
My great grandam—She was a Witch.
Pretty and small,
A mere nothing at all,
Pinned up sharp in the ghost of a shawl,
She’d straddle her down to the kirkyard wall,
And mutter and whisper and call; and call—
And—call.
Red blood out and black blood in,
My Nannie says I’m a child of sin—
How did I choose me my witchcraft kin!
Know I as soon as dark’s dreams begin
Snared is my heart in a nightmare’s gin;
Never from terror I out may win;
So dawn and dusk I pine, peak, thin,
Scarcely beknowing t’other from which—
My great grandam—She was a Witch.