Into the night they flew, with black cats on their broomsticks, too. Awaiting their brew, they swirled in the sky, so very high, past the eyes of the moon. They chant witchy tunes for they are the things that swoon. Some say they only come on that special night, others don't think that's true or right.
Some people say it's make-believe, some say it's true.
An unsolved mystery that no one ever knew.