Alizon, your pretty face,
bewitching features out of place,
your mother never could give you
the beauty you have grown into.
Alizon, your innocence,
reflected by your reticence.
Behind the mask you always hide,
the secrets buried deep inside.
Jealousy, a sprig of fear,
mix them well and hate appears
within the cauldron of the mind
with truth and reason left behind.
Innocent beyond all doubt,
but don't forget that in this state
you're guilty until proven not.
Your rights, it seems, the law forgot.
Your mother burned, your sister hanged,
beneath the gallows people sang
of freedom from the lifted spells
no longer cursed among the fells.
Alizon I feel ashamed,
Three Hundred years, and nothings changed
and Witches now still serve their time
as victims for another's crime.
Which girl are you,
Which girl are you?
Witch girl, are you gonna swim tonight?
Which girl are you,
Which girl are you?
Witch girl, can you shed a tear when you need to?
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