Poetry about Witches and a Gnome

There are witches

In the woods they say

That run about Naked

Both night and day

But I'm not convinced

This is entirely true

As there are insects

That bite

And in the cold of winter

The witches would

Turn blue

Although in the summer

It might make more sense

But even then

The undergrowth can be Spiky

And very dense

But being witches I guess

They can always cast a spell

So even dancing naked

Can end sort of well

With just a few scratches

From their faithful cats

But I bet even then

On their heads

They keep their hats . . . (The Witches not the Cats)

But one thing I know

Is you would never catch me

Running naked in a wood

As folk would snigger

If they could

I am sensible and confine

Such activity

To the privacy of

My stately home

Where I can

Run about naked

With my mate

The Garden Gnome