The Witch... we all grew up with one, right?

The Witch
The wicked Witch of Pleasant Street
Lived in a brick apartment block.
She was the only tenant,
But her yard was full of sunflower stalks.


The wicked Witch of Pleasant Street
Looked very mean, had wild white hair,
And undernourished greyish skin,
And fiery eyes that madly stared.

She'd laugh a cackling shrewish scream,
And scolded us when evening came.
For then we'd gather in her court
To tease her and to play our games.

Oh wicked Witch of Pleasant Street,
You let yourself be fooled.
You acted out the evil role
That we assigned to you!

We'd shout, 'Come out! We're not afraid!'
And clamoured in the twilight's damp.
You'd stand before your window,
Scream, 'Begone, you little tramps!'


We'd yell, 'Come catch us on your broom!
Come out and fight the slaughter!'
And when you had enough of us,
You'd douse us with hot water.


Oh, Wicked Witch of Pleasant Street,
You played into our hands,
We needed someone old and mean
To play our fears and child's demands.


I know today you had it rough.
Your husband died in Europe's war.
Alone, you had a child to raise.
You had no job. You were dirt poor.


I feel ashamed when I look back
On all the grief we gave to you.
We only wanted fairy tales:
Giants, dwarves---and witches too.


Oh, Wicked Witch of Pleasant Street,
We never gave you one small thought.
But was it really fairy tales,
Or eccentricity we fought?


All children find their Wicked Witch.
There's one in every neighborhood.
She's always the outsider
In a world defined as 'bad' or 'good'