The Witch's Council heard a far knock,
unfurled the curtain to Wanda Warlock.
"I want to join your club," said she,
"I've got the magic, bub, you'll see!"

And with a twirl and a swish,
and a whirl and a wish,
conjured a tall lizard, green slime, a ball of light;
procured a small wizard, mean mime, and doll of might!

"I hold tons a spell,
and potions as well!
All you have to do,
is let me join you!"

The Witches said, "Not quite,
when you look a fraught fright!
Tatty shoes and crooked clothes,
ratty hair and a hooked nose,

pocks and warts on your face,
walks and smarts with no grace,
ancient wand and bereft hat,
you want us to accept that?!"

Wanda flung off in tears,
to her bungalow by the piers,
where waited her cat Jory,
who stated, "I know the story."

And out danced a robe of silk,
a fancy hat white as milk,
shiny shoes fit for a witch,
finely crafted stitch by stitch.

All by Jory's rich claws!
And next applied those paws,
dark arts upon sordid face;
scars, warts, and frizz he did erase,

red wand he tossed,
said, "Band back and accost!"
Thus did she magic,
just before the clique.

Turned on her heel,
yearned, "Now what's your feel?"
"Still a loser, a creep, a freak!
Never one of us, the chic!

Get out, get out!"
sounded their shout.
Wanda flew in a zoom,
and away hid in her room.

Until a stroll in the morn,
spotted the council forlorn!
Muddy blouse shreds, shattered glass, broken door,
bloody mouse heads, scattered grass, yolk on floor!

And the Witches?
Oh, the Witches!
Some were newts and hogs,
others were mutes and frogs,

britches and dresses in scratches,
witches in messes and patches,
crying in moans,
"why"-ing in groans.

Warlock filled with surprise,
her shock milled in her eyes;
while lurking by the tree line,
sat smirking a lithe feline.