Baba Yaga

Have you seen it in the gland
And cottage up on chicken legs
Better hope that she ain’t home
She’ll suck the marrow from your bones
Sweet old lady she is not
Stick you in her stewing pot
Baba Yaga
Ooh
Baba Yaga
Ah
Wise old crone or wicked witch
Got a broom of silver birch
She might give you what you need
Imma need a poppy seed
Sweep away all trace of track
You don’t want her coming back
Baba Yaga
Ooh
Baba Yaga
Ah
Country girls or merchants' sons
What’s the reason you have come?
By compulsion or free will
Or brought here by my spinning wheel?
Seeking apples made of gold?
Ask my sister, she would know
Baba Yaga
Ooh
Baba Yaga
Ah
Turn her comb into a forest when it’s time for you to flee
Her kerchief to a river, her mirror to the sea
With her mortar and her pestle she will follow close behind
You are spinning on her spindle, she’ll unravel you in time
Lives behind a fence of skulls
There’s still room for just one more
Served by disembodied hands
Mistress of the borderlands
Pony-legged, lion teeth
Give her something good to eat
Baba Yaga
Ooh
Baba Yaga
Ah
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga!