My Black Hen

Valentine Wolfe
Valentine Wolfe


My Black Hen 

Hickety, pickety, my black hen, 
She lays eggs for gentlemen; 
Gentlemen come every day 
To see what my black hen doth lay. 

My black hen gives me 
Such black feathers 
Each one tied in a knot 
Each a rung on the ladder 

The blackest curse 
Turns the soul 
In a witch’s ladder 
With thirteen rungs 

With cord magick 
And a cross of black pins 
Check for it under the bed 

The gentlemen come 
They can’t stay away 
Though the danger beckons 
They follow its clarion call 

Gentlemen should harbor 
Some caution 
Though they are tempted this way 
Best to just stay away

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