Witch's thimbles, Dead man's bells

Sound like words from ancient spells

Bloody fingers, Lady's glove

Witches tend to like the stuff

Fairy fingers, Fairy caps

Things from fairytales perhaps

Everywhere an other name

Yet they all speak of the same

Fairies love them, 's often said

And like to use them as a hat

Ointments, once by witches made

Could make you hallucinate

It can heal or death induce

Even the doctor knows its use

And yet its poison we ignore

If it is beauty we adore

Because real splendor they display

In gardens, woods, along the way

High they rise in purples, reds

Sometimes white, in garden beds

Attracting hungry bumblebees

And little fairies, no one sees

It brightens almost any place

Where foxglove shows its lovely face