Eye of Newt by Mr. Shakespeare

"It's a candy cottage," Lucy said
as they tramped through the bush,
sucking their boots from the mud
and crushing the skunk cabbages.

Dragonflies buzzed around their heads.
They climbed over fallen tree trunks
And slipped on the rotten leaves.
A raven cawed in the distance.

"No, it's just an old deserted shack,
said Andrew.  "And there are no witches."
But their parents had warned them about it
so they had to check it out.

And there it was.  No sign of anyone,
just a big iron cauldron over a fire.
Claws and talons poked out of the putrid stew,
the broth, the lumpy porridge.

It kept changing and seemed like all those things.
Then the heavy door creaked open.
The witch came out, looking like witches do,
dragging the heavy robes and waving her rusty spoon.

'What's in the cauldron?" Lucy whispered.
"Eye of newt by Mr. Shakespeare,"  the crone cackled.
"You'd better leave or you'll be next.
I need some tasty children for this brew."

"Let's not stick around," said Andrew.
"Better luck next time," said the witch.
She howled with laughter and waved her spoon.
They didn't stop running til the edge of the wood.