And woe shall become man,
When hideous beings
Shall walk the earth,
Devoid of all feelings.
They shall walk
And sunder the rich,
Bend the poor,
Sing off pitch
of times gone passed,
when gods were cursed,
And all the devils
were reimbursed
for countless sins
they brought upon
the people whom
would take up song,
and later banish them from here.
And I tell you all of this
my dear
to tell you ne'er trust the witch
that lives in hut with roof of thatch
and rests high up,
upon the legs
of foul fowls
cursed by figs
to serve her evermore.
Ne'er get ye the shining gem
don't speak the rhyme,
Don't face the femme
who'll turn ye in no time
t'form of frog
and henceforth found,
from lands of bog,
and without sound,
devour you swift
and sure as salt,
her spirits lift
with this assault.
Don't barter with the Ogress
Far fouler than the foulest Naga,
For she will gladly confess,
She's the vile Baba Yaga.
*pant pant*
And that's why she's pure evil.
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