I am Winterwood, a wizard
steeped in necromantic lore.
I can levitate your body
fifty feet above the floor.
If I wish, you are piglet
overeating at a trough,
or a pirouetting robot
with no switch to turn you off.

I am Winterwood, a weaver
of abominable spells.
With a waggle of my whiskers,
I can rearrange your cells.
If I choose you as my victim,
you will find you can’t prevent
the unpleasant consequences
of my terrible intent.

I continually revel
in disreputable deeds,
changing children into chickens,
lovely roses into weeds.
When I fly into a frenzy.
you’ll do well to feel alarm.
I am Winterwood, a wizard…
there’s a chance I mean you harm.