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Three spooky witches chant around a flame,
And whisper of a great and noble name.
They tell brave Macbeth
he will soon be king,
Unknowing of the terror this will bring.
His greedy wife then plants a wicked plan,
To murder Duncan, a most gentle man.
The king is killed while sleeping in his bed,
And Macbeth takes the heavy crown instead.
But guilt and horror quickly start to grow,
He sees the bloody ghost of Banquo.
The new king fears he cannot keep his throne,
And feels unloved, untrusted,
and alone.
He asks the witches what the future holds,
A trick of words is what their spell unfolds.
"No man born of a woman harms your life,
Until the woods march out to bring you strife."
Lady Macbeth walks weeping in her sleep,
With heavy stains of guilt she cannot keep.
She washes hands that never will be clean,
And dies in grief,
a broken, tragic queen.
The enemy arrives with branches high,
The moving forest fills the stormy sky!
Young Macduff strikes with all his might and main,
And cuts the wicked tyrant's life in twain.
The crown is saved,
the rightful king is found,
And peace returns to Scotland's bloody ground. (hooray!) (hahaha!)