The Charm of the Web Weaver
A faerie maid by a rival cheated
One night was by her hearth-side seated
And picking up her thread and spindle
She cast a spell, her foe to swindle
To take back what was hers by right
She weaves a web of silver bright
As the wheel spins and the spindle turns
Victory wins and her vengeance burns
There she casts her charm of woe
Spinning out her spiteful foe
In a fit of pique, casting down her rival
In a web weaving spell of sweet reprisal
Humming softly a charm of making
Her enemy crushed by triumph breaking
Before the moon doth wax and wane times three
Her vanquished foe cries "Woe is me!"
For as the Wheel turns, the Seasons are bound
In lessons learned and what goes round comes round!
By Marie Bruce
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