Wrapped in a time-worn eiderdown

The sofa still is broken down

My dog is happy fast asleep

He has no soul to worry or keep

If I was just and proven right

I too would sleep so through the night

My crimes unknown, fate denied

No one knows yet that I had lied

About the death of Stan Magrew

I’d shot him twice and then the stew

I made from him was sweet and tender

His flesh and bones with ease did render

So now my dog sleeps, belly fat

And I’m a free man, imagine that?

witches black rise up chanting

the world sideways, with attendant

voices dear-disenchanting

spells grate in foul-granting

black-hearted promises of enchantment