The 6th song of my 50 songs in 90 days project for 2008.

The title came to me first of all, which prompted me to try and come up with something absurd enough and gothic enough to live up the title's promise.

You're flying through the sky, you fly so very high
Without an aeroplane, are you a witch?
You seem to flee from the sun, I'm sure that you are one
There's a wart on your nose and you wear black
You ride the broomstick, are you a witch?

Your cauldren boils and bubbles, it cooks a spell of troubles
And the fumes can make you see things that aren't there
Your black cat stares too much with its knowing eyes
In your cupboard there's a broomstick that flies
You ride the broomstick, are you a witch?