Devil take me now

Throw me to the pit

Let me lust for battle

For I was born for it

Give me not redemption

But let me wear my sin

As I feast upon my fellows

With a chortle and a grin

I will wear them proudly

The errors of my ways

An angel may ask mercy

But a demon never prays

I swear I’ll never falter

Never hestitate or slack

Lead me not to salvation

Let me fall into the black

Let the gates sit open

For heaven it can wait

I’ll not envy paradise

Over my own chosen fate

Sentence me to hellfire

I need no judge or jury

Forge me as your sword

Let me embody fury

Neither grace nor glory

Can satiate my greed

Take me now, my Devil

For Hell has all I need

Matilda Twitty was young and pretty,

the princess of Fairly Hall.

And popular too, nearly everyone knew

her well as the belle of the ball.

The trouble though, what they couldn’t know,

was that Tildy had a twin,

an evil tart with an onyx heart

who used magic to do men in.

Tabitha Twitty was unknown in the city

as the family hid her away,

in an upstairs site, where they hoped they might

keep her villainous powers at bay.

But the men from town, determined and bound

that Matilda see their allure,

came to call, at Fairly Hall

on its princess so fair and demure.

But what the boys got was not what they thought

as they serenaded their love.

Those courtships were jaded, while the boys promenaded,

Tabitha spied on them from above.

Sipping her wine, biding her time,

unseen from her garret’s gable.

Awaiting her chance while ”Sweet Tildy“ danced,

to cut in and turn the table.

This sis in the attic was a raging addict

who when the night grew late,

would sneak below, and steal the soul

of he who had courted fate.

She would sneak to his bed, bend over his head

as though to plant a kiss,

but instead she would sip, the breath from his lips

and leave him in virulent bliss.

This evil twin would run away then

with a life’s breath sucked inside,

she’d hide in her room and the garret’s gloom

while her clarity got fried.

For when she exhaled, it never failed

to make her as high as a kite,

as that breath showed her dreams, and the nightmarish things

that her victim envisioned that night.

Wicked Tabitha loved to lord it above

her sister, and all of her beau’s.

She relished their dreams, being privy to things

that “Sweet Tildy” never would know.

She was having a time, til she happened to find

something that brought her up short.

It seemed that her bill for each mystical kill

was a bulbous, revolting wart.

Two grew on her hand, there was one that demanded

she never wear sheer hose.

But the largest of cankers, the one that most rankled

popped up on the end of her nose.

So while stealing breath, and causing death

gave Tabitha inebriate joys

she might have to pause, and determine the cause

of these hideous corns and boils.

But pay heed to my tale, if you’re ever availed

to go calling at Fairly Hall,

then if after dinner a young girl enters

your room... take a glance at the wall.

If her shadowed beak has a rounded peak

then you’re the victim of a switch.

Go ahead and scream, don’t give your dreams

to that damnable Tabitha b.... witch!