Listen to me children let me tell you a tale of a which who’s far from frail.
She lives there in the woods just a bit over yonder
and snatches little children who disobey their mothers and fathers.
Through a forrest, dark, where trees form perfect rows
there’s a garden full of skulls of would-be heroes.
Up in a cabin on the legs of a chicken
lives an ancient hag who questions sicken.
High up in the sky above your town the arch crone of death, renown.
Atop a giant mortar that she uses to fly
the great bone mother is descending from high.
Deep within the swamps nearby a melody softly lulls
you to a hut adorned with lots of glowing skulls.
Though the guardian of wisdom, horses, and the riders three
she is also known to get some help from Koschei.
Blending with the elders in the elderly home the swamp witch begins to roam,
searching only for the ribs of disrespectful little kids,
and getting younger every moon thanks to her rose tea brew.