My sisters and I have a very strong bond;
since childhood, we’ve known where we belong;
My sister, Justine, sews a very fine seam,
and my sister Janette can cook like a dream,
While I cannot cook or sew like a lady.
but have the touch and can care for the babies;
We come as a package, the house must hire three,
In order to have my sisters and me.
When we came here, the weather was cold,
The mistress who saw us was not very old;
Her mother had died, she told us with pain,
The servants had gone and were not seen again;
Her father was sick from the loss of his wife,
and she just didn’t know what to do with their lives.
And so we told her just what we could do,
The young girl looked down, when we were through —
Yes, a seamstress was needed, yes, they needed a cook,
But they had no babies –just take a look-
but if I tended her father, she thought it might work–
if I ignored his strangeness, for he had gone quite berserk;
but I knew about potions and fixed him a brew,
and put it in soup, for I knew what to do;
and soon the old man slept sound in his bed,
while visions of sugarplums danced in his head;
Next day, when he woke, his vision had cleared,
And now he could see all that he held dear;
“It’s a miracle” cried the daughter, in relief,
but called in his doctor to share her belief–
but the doctor was firm–there wasn’t a cure
for dementia, his caregiver had given a lure,
Twas the work of a witch the doctor proclaimed,
and the work of the devil, done in his name–
“And look!” said the doctor, “of witches there’s three!”
“That’s plenty of evidence, if you ask me…”
And so we left in the dead of the night,
When the tide was high and the moon was bright–
How did we go, to escape certain doom?
WHY DON’T YOU KNOW? WE EACH HAD A BROOM!
Sandra Lee Smith/originally posted 9-13-12/updated 5/17/18