Poetry for Witches and a Garden Gnome

Gnomes

There are witches
In the woods they say
That run about Naked
Both night and day
But I’m not convinced
This is entirely true
As there are insects
That bite
And in the cold of winter
The witches would
Turn blue
Although in the summer
It might make more sense
But even then
The undergrowth can be Spiky
And very dense
But being witches I guess
They can always cast a spell
So even dancing naked
Can end sort of well
With just a few scratches
From their faithful cats
But I bet even then
On their heads
They keep their hats . . . (The Witches not the Cats)
But one thing I know
Is you would never catch me
Running naked in a wood
As folk would snigger
If they could
I am sensible and confine
Such activity
To the privacy of
My stately home
Where I can
Run about naked
With my mate
The Garden Gnome.

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