A Not So Charmed Life

A gathering of wicked witches
Armed with a multitude of heavy switches
Rose expertly to the occasion
Of the most despicable persuasion

Shall we hide the dead man laying
Near the smoldering calderon
Or toss him into the brew
Calckled the ugly old shrew

Murdered he was at the merciless hands
Of such witches who knew
They had beaten him to a bloody pulp
Like only these heartless witches could do

The man had lived a sad life
Filled with poverty and strife
Now here he lay beaten and breathless
Enclosed in one hand a sharp hunting knife