One must have great seasoned cauldron to call upon spirits,

magic rhymes carefully selected so thine impish of ears may hear it;

Start with base of asperge,

show mounts of your worth,

toss a crows' talkative beak;

Partake no concern for victim,

they are... after all... object to bitter venom;

Fur assorted lines,

purr in hiss as such a beastly feline –

Whimper thy disgust for your sudden fate,

gulp mine grotty elixir: extinguish such parched ingrate,

make mine young again with thee exuberating traits,

'won't thy aid this old crone's deteriorating state?'

Choice no matters now,

one dribble on thy tongue and I shall be emended squandered endows –

as for thee my once gorgeous: I giveth a solemn bow,

ye will forever more.... be nothing spoken but abhorred of a black cat's meow.