The Bewitching Trilogy in 4 Parts - part 1
The Bewitching of Maharaja Richie Red The Rooster In the days when Rich was a princeling spry, With a crown made of twigs and a glint in his eye, He wandered too far from the palace of jam, Into woods where the mushrooms whispered, “Scram!” The trees grew thick with Witch Hazel’s grin, He tripped on a root and tumbled right in Down a slope of ferns, green as envy’s face, Where the moss sang jazz and the spores kept pace. He rolled past a squirrel who played the kazoo, Past a fox in socks sipping nettle brew, Till he landed kerplunk by a bubbling pot, Where the Witch Panda stirred her spellful lot. She wore a robe stitched from bamboo dreams, Her cauldron hissed with musical steam. She tossed in frog spawn, a bat polished bright, And a Son House record “Death Letter” for plight. The brew went boom, the brew went bang, It fizzed like funk in a gospel gang. She ladled a sip to the dazed young Rich, Who drank it down with a hiccup and twitch. He woke with a howl at the stroke of twelv...