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Burning Of A Witch ©

This was written after reading a book called 'The Devil's Children', a book based on true facts of a woman burned at the stake in Scotland. Her two children became witches, the boy to black magick and the girl a white magick.

Jane Baxter
Dorset, England

The whip it rose the skin was scourged
It wealed and then it bled
The whip it rose and rose again
Till they thought the lass was dead

A man stood there alone apart
Who once stood proud and tall
With spirit cowed and broken heart
A witness to it all

"Release! Release!" the whispered voice
Kept pleading piteously
"Dear God! Have mercy on my plight,
And make them set me free!"

But her cries they fell on deafened ears
And eyes that burned with lust
No hand was raised to help her
For they said that she was cursed

This curse that brought her to her end
When she was naught but still a child
Was her beauty so fair
Twas beyond any compare
Her beauty so wondrous and wild

She was the envy of dried up old women
And she set men aflame with desire
But knowing that they could not have her
They condemned her to death on the pyre

The man who'd stood alone apart
Cried out, "Dear God, you're wrong!"
But well he knew within his heart
He had stayed his hand too long

Then death approached
Through the fagot's smoke and pitch
Welcomed then by she who burned
A girl and not a witch

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