Once upon their time,

There lived an old witch.

She was old, and wrinkled,

White fuzz covered dark skinned-skull,

Colorful cloths wrapped her

As she walked her ways.

 

She helped the poor,

And the sick, and the hurting,

For no charge at all.

She grew herbs and flowers

All to brighten days

As she walked her ways.

 

Once upon their time,

There lived some mean men.

They were young, and smooth,

Blonde hair matching blue eyes,

And more white clothes wrapped them

As they ran their wicked ways.

 

They killed the poor,

They lynched the sick, they hung the hurting,

For the cost of pride.

They trampled herbs and flowers

All to ruin days

As they ran their wicked ways.

 

Once upon their time,

The nice old witch met the mean young men.

Mahoganey bloomed under orange,

White clashed on red,

And the mean men burned a cross in her yard

As they parted separate ways.

 

The witch shook her head sadly,

While the men laughed and screamed

For the blood of the wicked witch

At the cost of her life.

She read them a verse-

"Corinthians Three- Fourteen"-

As they parted separate ways.

 

Once upon their time,

Tear gas bloomed on streets,

And the witch cried as she watched

The same poor she helped

Die without a sound.

She cried, and sobbed,

As she walked her ways.

 

Once upon their time,

The mean young men came back,

And this time they meant business-

There was no doubt of that.

So she took her pan of bread,

Muttered a prayer in French,

Walked outside

And offered them a slice.

 

Once upon their time,

An old gnarled tree grew in Baton Rouge

And the poor and sick and hurting

Would look at it and remember:

 

"There lived an old witch.

She was old, and wrinkled,

White fuzz covered dark skinned-skull,

Colorful cloths wrapped her

As she walked her ways.

 

She helped the poor,

And the sick, and the hurting,

For no charge at all.

She grew herbs and flowers

All to brighten days

As she walked her ways,

 

Once Upon Their Time."