lacquer hag The “lacquer hag” of an old factory, was spittin’ and sputterin’ as nasty can be. She stomped and she growled at those within sight; bellowing demands on this, the fourth night. Nobody knew what problem was hers, but her voice grated like a pile of burrs. Her hair brown and wiry; like a pumpkin she’d grin; all that was missing, was a hair on her chin!