| Granny Green was stooped as a windblown branch
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| She lived high in the bramble forest
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| Once a fortnight, if the moon shone right she came down to our little village
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| She brought blackberries and willow bark, mandrake root and mushrooms
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| And it was said she spoke the tongue of birds
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| And understood the river’s whispers
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| Now several girls among our town by a golden lizard they were bitten
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| And those sweet girls lay stiff in their beds like frozen ice up on the branches
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| Granny Green mixed a tonic for their ills but it was such a bitter tonic
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| All who drank began to dance and could not stop their dancing
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| But none would have danced one sinful step
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| If that old crone had not bewitched us
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| How we leaped and pranced and cackled, the whole town writhing madmen
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| And so desperate grew some to still their feet they dove into the raging river
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| Still we danced on day and night till our fine clothes were torn and ragged
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| And crying out, «Oh, Lord, make us stop!» |
| we danced naked round the chapel
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| How Granny laughed to see such sin.
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| «It's just water,» she said, «in my tonic!»
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| But all cried out, «She lies! |
| She surely lies!» |
| and chased her deep into the
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| bramble
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| But like the four winds she disappeared
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| Though we searched round and round the branches
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| Rolling in leaves and naked ‘neath the trees we lost the way back to our village
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| But I swear we were all pure of heart till that old crone did bewitch us
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| And I know we will all go home, when the good lord returns to save us |