Peggy Babcock’s Potent Potion

Peggy Babcock’s Potent Potion

 

 

Have you seen her? Have you missed her?

The twisty witchy tongue-twister sister?

She’s sister, in truth, of Madame Ruth;

you know, the gypsy with the gold-capped tooth.

Ruthie’s sister is a twister who can do the witchy talk

and that twisty witchy sister’s name is Peggy Babcock!

Peggy Babcock!

Peggy Babcock!

Yes, that twisty witchy sister’s name is Peggy Babcock!

 

Now Peggy went to Ruthie’s pad at 34^th and Vine

with half a dozen midnight cats behind her in a line.

She brought her vat, she brought her hat,

she brought a brace of baby bats,

she brought a brace of baby bats.

She donned her hat, set up her vat,

she poured in broth and butterfat.

The cauldron boiled, the cauldron bubbled;

Peggy Babcock toiled and troubled;

And when it boiled up to a head,

Peggy stood up straight and said,

 

“Now, cats and bats! Do listen well

While I recite this mystic spell.

For chanting is what I must do

to brew this batch of magic stew.

And don’t you whine and don’t you wince

while I list its ingredients;

for as I call each one by name

why, you must do the very same.

Repeat the recipe back to me!

From first to last, say ‘em three times fast!

No muttering or stuttering,

no sputtering or fluttering!

Recite ‘em right, don’t be a jerk;

Recite ‘em right or the potion won’t work!”

 

Her cats and bats all yowled and howled,

“Recite ‘em right or the potion won’t work!

Recite ‘em right or the potion won’t work!

Recite ‘em right or the potion won’t work!”

 

“Good, my pretties! Very breezy.

But, you know, that one was easy.

For the first thing I must brew

are spicy peppers, pickled through;

a peck of them, no less will do;

so don’t you stare like we were lepers

but pack a peck of pickled peppers!”

 

Her cats and bats all yowled and howled,

“Pack a peck of pickled peppers!

Pack a peck of pickled peppers!

Pack a peck of pickled peppers!”

 

“Good, my pets! Now, after that

is this dingy drab old pat

of butter bought from Betty Botter.

Batty Betty bought this butter

and she put it in her batter

but it made her batter bitter;

so she bought some better butter

and she put that in her batter

and it made her batter better.

But what was the matter

with the bitter batter butter?

It drove Betty batty; the butter made her stutter.

And that’s why, you see, she sold it to me.

So don’t you flail and don’t you flutter

but dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!”

 

“Dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!

Dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!

Dab a drab pat of Betty Botter’s butter!”

 

“Next, my darlings, he he he!

Came here from the bakery.

A munchy, crunchy, crispy snack;

Eight times seven in a stack;

So many that the vat might crack!

But let’s be bold, let’s briskly risk it

with fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!”

 

“Fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!

Fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!

Fifty-six thick crispy biscuits!”

 

“Good, my dears! Now look and see

this sack of seashells sold to me

by a maiden of the sea.

We met while surfing near the shore

surrounded by the ocean’s roar.

So pour some in, and pour some more;

these seashells she sells by the seashore!”

 

“Seashells she sells by the seashore!

Seashells she sells by the seashore!

Seashells she sells by the seashore!”

 

“And now, my sweethearts, let’s make free

with rhymes that cannot even be.

For see this porridge? Why, it’s orange!

Watch me spread it on this door-hinge!

A door-hinge that I got from Dora.

I’ll spread on more, then even more of

orange porridge. Spread it flat

and then just toss it in the vat.

So don’t you whine and don’t you whinge

at Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!”

 

“Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!

Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!

Dora’s orange porridge door-hinge!”

 

“Excellent, my little imps!

Now come, look close, and you shall glimpse

elastic bars from a wheeled chair

for infants - roll it anywhere.

So please hold still - don’t be such jumpers

and brew these rubber baby buggy bumpers!”

 

“Rubber baby buggy bumpers!

 Rubber baby buggy bumpers!

 Rubber baby buggy bumpers!”

 

“My dears, you’ve done so very well

that soon we shall conclude this spell;

because the last stuff we need brew

is insect ichor, dark in hue.

So say it straight, or your name is mud

as I drain a dram of black bug’s blood!”

 

“Drain a dram of black bug’s blood!

Drain a dram of black bug’s blood!

Drain a dram of black bug’s blood!”

 

 

The cauldron boiled, the cauldron bubbled;

Peggy Babcock toiled and troubled;

And when it boiled up to a head,

Peggy stood up straight and said,

 

“My little pretties, he he he!

Gather ‘round me, come and see!

This boiling bog of murky mess

has brewed to a complete success!

It smells like turpentine, it looks like India ink

so hold your nose and close your eyes if you would take a drink.

I’ll fill a batch of bottles with this stew we brewed so fine

then Madame Ruth can sell the youth some...

     Love Potion Number Nine!

     Love Potion Number Nine!

     Love Potion Number Ni-i-i-i-ine!”