It approaches my own witching hour, 3:33
My lover grows tired.
Bell, book, and candle now take up
Then raise your cup
Renounce your lord
You’ll be adored
Raven, rat, and blackest cat
On shoulders sat
Sing your virtues
And take your dues
The coven maketh you their own
In stitches sewn
Bound by blood
Now don thy hood