Belladonna

I have a deadly nightshade So twisted does it grow With berries black as midnight And a skull as white as snow The vicar’s cocky young son Came to drink my tea He touched me without asking Now he’s buried ‘neath a tree. Trad. “Girls’ Skipping Rhyme” from Chokely in Wynterset History of Belladonna Belladonna,Continue reading “Belladonna”