Baba Yaga

Ysabella, beware the Baba Yaga
 If you're caught out late at night then
 Ysabella, if you see the Baba Yaga
 Pestle and mortar in full flight then
 Ysabella, run from the Baba Yaga
 Run from the Baba Yaga
 Run girl, run girl, run
 If the Baba Yaga catches you you're done
 ♪
 Ysabella grew up in a house down by the river
 with her wicked stepmother and her cruel stepsisters
 who would never lift a finger to get anything done
 leaving little Ysabella as the only one
 to venture out into the forest where the stories told
 of a mad, unholy being both capricious and bold
 and over overwhelming power, Baba Yaga, infamed
 for her appetite for children, Bella's father used to say.
 One evening Ysabella found, through no fault of her own
 That she was still out in the forest when she should have been at home
 And squinting in the darkness for a light to be her guide
 Saw the flicker of a lantern in the distance and decided
 To make her way towards the light, for little did she know
 Baba Yaga watched her as she went below
 And swooping down she caught the poor girl in a hempen sack
 And took her back to serve her at the chicken-leg shack.
 ♪
 Each day she had to clean the house and yard
 And pick the black grains and the white peas
 from the never ending wheat.
 Cook supper from the mushrooms in the wood
 The way the Baba Yaga would
 and press the oil from poppy seeds.
 She worked her fingers to the bone
 And when she thought she was alone
 She knelt and clasped her hands to pray.
 No sooner had she started speaking
 Baba Yaga stood there, screeching
 Broken, crippled, howling out in pain.
 Ysabella took her chance and bolted for the door
 And, panicked, scrambled through the woods the way she had before
 Pursued by men on horseback in the dreadful witch's charge
 She lost her footing, fell and cracked her head on something hard
 And that was the last we saw of Ysabella.