Lie still, my dear,
This kind of art,
Requires a steady hand.
My intention’s very clear,
I use my heart,
And all the skill at my command.
I’ll paint you with a tiger print,
To give your purr a roar,
And all your foes will get the hint,
And bother you no more.
Lie still my dear,
My brushes are,
Spokesmen for my craft,
These strokes breed fear,
In near and far,
And breathe a sure witchcraft.

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