Unlikely cohabitants,
We Scouts and the witches.
Yet we are both tribes.
Our uniform and coded language attest.
While they make merry with mead.
We have red and white wine at our formal dinner.
They, their athanes, garlands and flowing gowns,
We have scarves and woggles.
They will dance around the Maypole,
(Perhaps skyclad.)
Our eyes up-cast salute the flagpole.
They welcome the coming of Spring,
We await Jamboree.
What make they of our raucous BRAVOs.
We are definitely apprehensive about their 'Great Rite',
As we retire to our segregated bunk rooms.
Blessed be!
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