The Witch of Aberdeen

She lived outside of Aberdeen
Where Scotland woods stood glum and gray
Above a cavern in between
The rising moon and setting day.
Her laughter seemed to plague the night—
    That is, as some would say;
And oft, through yonder crescent light,
Would on her broomstick glide away.

One day a mob of townsfolk came
And seized her from her dwelling place—
The violence bruised her fragile frame,
The blows and blows her puzzled face.
'Neath weeping woods and weeping sky,
   They drug her to a space
Where she was left alone to die,
A witch condemned to hell's embrace.

Not one had known the homeless teen,
This mute recluse abandoned there—
But she loved God and lived serene
In grim conditions none would dare.
And now her laughter fills His halls,
   And halos hug her hair.
This girl condemned by 'Christian laws'
Is now embraced by Heaven's Care.