adamdaniel

The Witch’s Weigh House

Oudewater, a canal side town,
Just west of Utrecht city,
Houses a dark weigh house,
And the witches test committee,

The witch was brought before the group,
And placed upon the scales,
The weight would then decide her fate,
And sentencing details,

Crimes would range in gravity,
From sorcery to spells,
From intercourse with pig or horse,
To charms upon the dells,

Other acts of wantonness,
Were scrying in the lake,
Or chanting incantations,
That would keep the town awake,

With cauldron spoon below the moon,
The witch was found in error,
And then she’d fret, her fate was set,
And destined for some terror…

Punishments like burning fire,
Or torture in the dark,
Lonely, cold imprisonment,
Or branding with a mark,

Flagellation with a cane,
Or woven leather whip,
Drowning in the sea at night,
Or madness by a drip,

The weigh house was a bitter place,
A punitive indulgence,
Sending many innocents,
To heaven’s bright effulgence,

Often accusations,
Were a spurious facade,
With fictions wild and wonderful,
That left the jury awed…

She’s mated with the neighbour’s goose!
And spoken with the donkey,
She’s spat upon the cross with bile,
And wants to wed a monkey!

She should burn in boiling oil,
Or have her hair removed,
Or sit upon the pillory,
If guilty weight is proved!

The trails and tests are definite!
A surefire way to see,
If wench or girl or maid or crone,
Should meet infinity,

Fifteen fifty three alone,
Saw several hundred dead,
The test was stern, the girl would burn,
Or surely lose her head,

And to this day, the scales are there,
Of wood and iron made,
There on Leeuweringerstraat,
So eerily displayed…

ADL – 12/06/25