The Witch by Jack Prelutsky
She comes by night, in fearsome flight,
garments black as pitch,
queen of doom upon her broom,
wild and wicked witch,
a crackling crone with brittle bones
evil eyes with warts and sties
bags about the rims,
a dangling nose, ten twisted toes
fold of shriveled skin,
cracked and chipped and crackled lips
frame a toothless grin.
She hurtles by, she sweeps the sky
hurls a piercing screech.
she swoops past, a spell is cast
all her curses reach.
Take care to hide when the wild witch rides
shriek her evil spell.
she may do with a word or two
much too grim to tell.