A stitch in time saves nine,
But what loop will the witch queen heed?
In pointless slaughter
The Old Crone’s daughter
A hapless mob did lead.
Now she sits in tomb that’s frozen,
The traitors’ blood all spilled
Upon the path that she had chosen,
Enthroned with collar gild.
Ringed in steel, three loops times nine
Prized from the luckless seat,
Supplicants kneel, of porcelain fine,
The banished queen to meet.
It matters not who’s dared to come
The demon’s soul to claim,
The weak shall die, the strongest live
And forever more remain.