Pendle Hill

Pendle Hill by moonlight
When witches come out to play
Their tricks on innocent people
Who search for their things gone astray

The moon is forever watching
As on their broomsticks they fly
Dark images on the landscape
Soaring up on the evening sky

Tucked up in bed, on a winter's night
Cosy and warm as can be
The snow falling down round the hillside
While we sleep peacefully

Dreaming of old Mother Demdike
The notorious witch of them all
Stirring her brew by the fireside
With bats clinging all round the wall

The witches of Pendle, they hung them
Whether they be false or true
And yet over three hundred years later
The judges are now me and you

Brenda S. Warhurst

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© 2006 Brenda S. Warhurst