She of barbs, so poison horned,
Nothing worse than woman scorned
Heart is hard as gunmetal blue,
Is in this body of a shrew.

Eyes now covered with a mist,
Twisted lips had not been kissed;
In every word that she was taught,
Was dripping poison of some sort..

Broken glass; cold slivers of ice,
Crawling cockroach and filthy lice,
Are in her clothes, in every stitch,
Devouring now this wicked witch.

Thinking that she can do no wrong,
Spreads a hateful, malevolent song,
As she lives through her bitter life,
She’s full of hatred, full of strife.

Hatred eating her inside out,
This is malignant without doubt,
For now she knows that she will die,
As to the ducking stool they tie.

They dip her once and dip her twice,
Into the water cold as ice,
Then cursing all of them to death,
The witch; she drew her final breath.