"Go back from wenst ye came." cried the witch with a wicked shrill.
"Go back to your place a tumbling downhill."
The which you see was that of Marlan Grey.
She was once a dame, whose hair was a firey black flame.
But she went and took a look,
Signed her name in the devil's book.
Gained more power than you or I could ever muster.
It was her.
She then moved to a castle as black as her heart became.
And tortured the town with an iron fist.
The people there grew tired of her tyranny.
"She wants a mob, so a mob we shall be." said a man.
A pitchfork in hand.
The mob stormed the dark castle.
The castle twas an illusion.
It was merely just a house just like yours or mine.
They tied her up and threw her in jail.
That is what they did to my dear Marlan Grey.
For many months she sat in filth.
Wasting away to mill.
Then the jailer came.
"Im free" she thought,
But all was lost.
They tied her up,
And burned her quick.
Twas the plight for a Salem witch.