Some Have No Spur To Prick The Sides Of Their Intent, But Only Vaulting Ambition...

 This year, what do the witches wish to add to their dirty, toxic brew?

Tongue of Rad-man

(short on sense),

Sautéed with

That fly on Pence. 

Ample chins

From younger days,

Turn this broth

A greenish haze.

Plop in 'pins'

That ain't too shabby;

Then chide the cauldron:

"Who's her daddy!"

Next, add in

Demented teeth,

A polished horse-face,

... Sarah Heath.

Slowly simmer (in)

Big white hoops;

M's shameful jacket

Crowns this soup!!!

Bubble, bubble

Toil and trouble:

Will the Donald

Score a double???