| By the ancient walls of Leicester town
|
| follow the winding pathway down
|
| don’t linger for a minute or an hour
|
| when the black moon is riding high
|
| and the wind is screaming 'cross the sky
|
| 'tis the art of the Witches power
|
| she’s fey cursed they say beware you’ll rue the day
|
| that you strayed to Black Annis' bower
|
| If you’re on Dane Hills in the dead of night
|
| be sure to hold your luck stone tight
|
| for they say that the blue face hag waits near
|
| and from the Earth where the leaves lie dead
|
| she’ll arise from her wintery bed
|
| and with her darkness feed upon your fear
|
| but the old crone is wise she’ll shape-shift before your eyes and move her
|
| spirit through the atmosphere
|
| For Black Annis is my name
|
| and now that you’ve heard of my fame
|
| it’s with a lack of understanding you may slight me
|
| for they say that I’m mad howling wild
|
| but I am the earth mother’s child
|
| and I walk with the elements around me
|
| don’t forget that I the crone am much older that you know
|
| shake the shadows from your mind and harken to me
|
| maiden, mother, crone I be another aspect of the three
|
| so bide your time until I call for thee |