In Salem, Massachusetts, back in sixteen ninety-two,

There lived the widow Goody Brown in peace, without ado.

Next door to her lived Adam Smith, a bachelor and young.

One day she went to visit him, at this wagged every tongue.

"Promiscuous extravagance," her chief detractor said.

"It could just be platonic love," opined a cooler head.

"Perhaps pragmatic cover-up," suggested one old coot,

"For she’s a narcissistic one, and odious to boot."

They sent a delegation that resembled the police,

Who in pedantic paraphrase said visits had to cease.

"At mention of his name," they said, "her heart did palpitate.

"Recalcitrant old witch," said some, whose hearts were filled with hate.

The judge, in peroration masking casuistic lie,