Sunday, October 2, 2011

Peggy Babcock’s Potent Potion


Peggy Babcock's Potent Potion


Have you seen her? Have you missed her?
The twisty witchy tongue-twister sister?
She’s sister, in truth, of Madame Ruth;
you know, the gypsy with the gold-capped tooth.
Ruthie’s sister is a twister who can do the witchy talk
and that twisty witchy sister’s name is Peggy Babcock!
Peggy Babcock!
Peggy Babcock!
Yes, that twisty witchy sister’s name is Peggy Babcock!

Now Peggy went to Ruthie’s pad at 34th and Vine
with half a dozen midnight cats behind her in a line.
She brought her vat, she brought her hat,
she brought a brace of baby bats,
she brought a brace of baby bats.
She donned her hat, set up her vat,
she poured in broth and butterfat.
The cauldron boiled, the cauldron bubbled;
Peggy Babcock toiled and troubled;
And when it boiled up to a head,
Peggy stood up straight and said,

“Now, cats and bats! Do listen well
While I recite this mystic spell.
For chanting is what I must do
to brew this batch of magic stew.
And don’t you whine and don’t you wince
while I list its ingredients;
for as I call each one by name
why, you must do the very same.
Repeat the recipe back to me!
From first to last, say ’em three times fast!
No muttering or stuttering,
no sputtering or fluttering!
Recite ’em right, don’t be a jerk;
Recite ’em right or the potion won’t work!”

Her cats and bats all yowled and howled,
“Recite ’em right or the potion won’t work!
Recite ’em right or the potion won’t work!
Recite ’em right or the potion won’t work!”

“Good, my pretties! Very breezy.
But, you know, that one was easy.
For the first thing I must brew
are spicy peppers, pickled through;
a peck of them, no less will do;
so don’t you stare like we were lepers
but pack a peck of pickled peppers!”

Her cats and bats all yowled and howled,
“Pack a peck of pickled peppers!
Pack a peck of pickled peppers!
Pack a peck of pickled peppers!”

“Good, my pets! Now, after that
is this dingy drab old pat
of butter bought from Betty Botter.
Batty Betty bought this butter
and she put it in her batter
but it made her batter bitter;
so she bought some better butter
and she put that in her batter
and it made her batter better.
But what was the matter
with the bitter batter butter?
It drove Betty batty; the butter made her stutter.
And that’s why, you see, she sold it to me.
So don’t you flail and don’t you flutter
but dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!”

“Dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!
Dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!
Dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!”

“Next, my darlings, he he he!
Came here from the bakery.
A munchy, crunchy, crispy snack;
Eight times seven in a stack;
So many that the vat might crack!
But let’s be bold, let’s briskly risk it
with fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!”

“Fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!
Fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!
Fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!”
 
“Good, my dears! Now look and see
this sack of seashells sold to me
by a maiden of the sea.
We met while surfing near the shore
surrounded by the ocean’s roar.
So pour some in, and pour some more;
these seashells she sells by the seashore!”

“Seashells she sells by the seashore!
Seashells she sells by the seashore!
Seashells she sells by the seashore!”

“And now, my sweethearts, let’s make free
with rhymes that cannot even be.
For see this porridge? Why, it’s orange!
Watch me spread it on this door-hinge!
A door-hinge that I got from Dora.
I’ll spread on more, then even more of
orange porridge. Spread it flat
and then just toss it in the vat.
So don’t you whine and don’t you whinge
at Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!”

“Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!
Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!
Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!”

“Excellent, my little imps!
Now come, look close, and you shall glimpse
elastic bars from a wheeled chair
for infants - roll it anywhere.
So please hold still - don’t be such jumpers
and brew these rubber baby buggy bumpers!”

“Rubber baby buggy bumpers!
 Rubber baby buggy bumpers!
 Rubber baby buggy bumpers!”

“My dears, you’ve done so very well
that soon we shall conclude this spell;
because the last stuff we need brew
is insect ichor, dark in hue.
So say it straight, or your name is mud
as I drain a dram of black bug’s blood!”

 “Drain a dram of black bug’s blood!
Drain a dram of black bug’s blood!
Drain a dram of black bug’s blood!”

The cauldron boiled, the cauldron bubbled;
Peggy Babcock toiled and troubled;
And when it boiled up to a head,
Peggy stood up straight and said,

“My little pretties, he he he!
Gather ’round me, come and see!
This boiling bog of murky mess
has brewed to a complete success!
It smells like turpentine, it looks like India ink
so hold your nose and close your eyes if you would take a drink.
I’ll fill a batch of bottles with this stew we brewed so fine
then Madame Ruth can sell the youth some...
     Love Potion Number Nine!
     Love Potion Number Nine!
     Love Potion Number Ni-i-i-i-ine!”

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