Life’s a Bitch if You’re a Witch

Life’s a Bitch if You’re a Witch

Life’s a bitch if you’re a witch,
Especially when you’ve lost your broom,
You cast a spell to find the thing,
And blew the bloody roof off the room.

I thought I was doing good,
With all the herbs and spices I could find,
But the one important one I didn’t get,
Was stood before me, and I was blind.

The thing I should have used,
Was a little bit of his hair,
And perhaps a little toenail,
When he was sat cutting them on my chair.

A few that flew astray,
Would have made him mine that day,
But I swept the blooming things up,
And threw my chance away.

I stirred my pot and chanted,
Till the smoke went up my nose,
Then sneezed into the cauldron,
And turned my slippers into crows.

I tried another little spell,
To make him fall for me,
Instead I made the neighbour’s cat,
Fall madly for a tree.

My cauldron started bubbling,
My magic filled the room,
Then I remembered something else,
I still couldn’t find my broom.

I found it in the garden,
Where I’d left it in the rain,
I jumped aboard and shouted, “GO!”
It threw me off again.

So if you’re after romance,
Don’t rely upon perfume,
Life’s a bitch when you’re a witch,
And you need to service your broom.