Not Exactly What She Had In Mind

Witchy, with a big fat wart so horrid not a man would court. She could have shed it with a spell, so handsome men would ring her bell. But Witchy's not the sharpest tool. In conjuring, she was the fool. A spell to be craved and adored. She giggled as her magic poured. Now she sits upon a log. Just a big old slimy frog. Toads adore her big fat wart. Droves of them hop by to court. Handsome men, her legs do crave; fried in a pan or microwaved!