Something Wicked

"Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin'd. Harpier cries :- 'tis time, 'tis time. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone, Days and nights hast thirty-one Swelter'd venom, sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmed pot! Double, double toil and trouble; Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble." The witches brew their dark potions for their dark deeds on dark autumn days, lonely hillocks, in bubbling cauldrons stirred by ...