There is a black forest,That hides a black brick house there.
That house is the gloomiest:
Black spiders are running everywhere.

A fence of black car tires
Runs the whole way around the house.
Little bats are flying
Over the black mouse.

A young lady is a host; she is a witch.
Her shoes are pointed and as black as pitch.
She wears a black cloak and a hat.
She rides on a broom with her coal-black cat.

She cooks licorice candies,
Creates new magic spells.
Black cauldron bubbles.
Mysterious atmosphere:
Flickering candles,
Ringing magic bells.

She says, Doozy licorice puff!
Trying to turn her cat into a big black gorilla,
Wearing a tuxedo,
But something goes wrong.
And now it's not the cat,
And there is no gorilla,
Just a teeny-weeny caterpillar.

A black old crow is laughing at her,
Saying
At least it wears a tuxedo.