A lying man’s tongue just freshly hung,

The eyes of a murderer taken for fun.

Hands from a thief cut from his arms,

A foot of the dead one found in the woods.

Head of a bat, hair from the wolf,

An evil soul dug up from its hole.

A thought from the wicked one whom

Has not a conscience,

Into the pot, the greed of anyone.

A piece of the cheating heart, those who hold,

One spoken word, a lie in the world.

All that is bad stirred into the pot,

A spell on the 31st will be cast after dark.

Keith Garrett