The Story of Jenny Greenteeth
in the murky depths of rotten lakes
nearwhere the bulrush meets the brakes
she sits and watches learns and waits
for you to make your last mistake
she's always there in water found
and has been since the day she drowned
and there she stays planning deeds
that will yield up her yearly feed
some call her witch or the water hag
with a bloated face her skin all sag
her fingers search for necks to scrag
her teeth as sharp as a broken crag
she likes to sing her cunning song
the tune so soft it might belong
to some sweet bird and it prolongs
so you won't know there's something wrong
she lulls folk to the water's face
with soft and soothing melodious grace
and waits until you're in the place
that she can spring her cold embrace
then down she'll drag into the gloom
a watery bride with her drowning room
her grip a suffocating tomb
so tight that it spells certain doom
and before the air has left your chest
she will have started to digest
your eyes and tongue which she likes best
gorging like a thing possessed
and in the depths right deep down
she'll make your bones into a crown
cackle like a rabid clown
as she wears your guts like a wedding gown
she wasn't always this dripping beast
nothing like it not in the least
a blushing bride called Jenny East
jilted at her wedding feast
she searched for him that left her broken
and whispered curses best unspoken
her heart grew cold old and oaken
she wailed until her voice was croaking
and out beside a still deep pool
her soul met rotten clenched and cruel
she made a pact with the darkest ghoul
that promised her revenging fuel
and as she waited she exchanged
her form and something else arranged
her beauty withered her mind deranged
and from the world she was estranged
till she became the green toothed crone
that likes to feed on flesh and bone
forgetting the life that she had flown
waiting watching till you're alone
nearwhere the bulrush meets the brakes
she sits and watches learns and waits
for you to make your last mistake
she's always there in water found
and has been since the day she drowned
and there she stays planning deeds
that will yield up her yearly feed
some call her witch or the water hag
with a bloated face her skin all sag
her fingers search for necks to scrag
her teeth as sharp as a broken crag
she likes to sing her cunning song
the tune so soft it might belong
to some sweet bird and it prolongs
so you won't know there's something wrong
she lulls folk to the water's face
with soft and soothing melodious grace
and waits until you're in the place
that she can spring her cold embrace
then down she'll drag into the gloom
a watery bride with her drowning room
her grip a suffocating tomb
so tight that it spells certain doom
and before the air has left your chest
she will have started to digest
your eyes and tongue which she likes best
gorging like a thing possessed
and in the depths right deep down
she'll make your bones into a crown
cackle like a rabid clown
as she wears your guts like a wedding gown
she wasn't always this dripping beast
nothing like it not in the least
a blushing bride called Jenny East
jilted at her wedding feast
she searched for him that left her broken
and whispered curses best unspoken
her heart grew cold old and oaken
she wailed until her voice was croaking
and out beside a still deep pool
her soul met rotten clenched and cruel
she made a pact with the darkest ghoul
that promised her revenging fuel
and as she waited she exchanged
her form and something else arranged
her beauty withered her mind deranged
and from the world she was estranged
till she became the green toothed crone
that likes to feed on flesh and bone
forgetting the life that she had flown
waiting watching till you're alone