Poetry by Maggie Mackay: The Last Execution for Witchcraft

The Last Execution for Witchcraft

I mind this place,
Littletown, my little town.
I was born into nothing
but this little town
and neighbours who gossip.

They cry me Janet-Jenny Witch.
Never mind my own name,
what is my name?
I can never remember my name.
That lassie with hooves for feet,
who is she?
Did the Deil shod her, like they say?

Where are my clothes? Cover my shame.
Bring me my skirt, my boots.
Bring me my shirt, my skirt, my boots.
Bring me my shawl, my shirt, my skirt, my boots.
Stop jeering, spitting with your ugly mouths.
I’m feart now. Awa with your tar.
Collaborator, they howl. Dinnae. 
Witch, evil bitch.

I’ll be glad of the fire for my bones
are as cold as a Sutherland burn in January.
Where’s my lass? She’ll stoke the flames.
God love her.