From adventofreason’s Xanga Archives . . .
|tell me, old mother, how
how do i make him love me?
i will tell you, child for
the shiny coppers in your hand
they are yours, old mother
please, please tell me the secret
dirt from his foot steps
hair from his head
what, tell me what
do i do with those things?
burn them and grind them
and feed them to your true love
thank you, dear mother
i will do so tonight
beware, young daughter
a warning i give you before you depart
a warning, for me, dear mother
but why and of what?
beware the whirlwind, young girl
for it is the devil dancing with his witch
old mother, for that i would give
the rest of my coppers to see
nay, my child for if
you get too close
yes, please tell me, what
what if i get too close?
they’ll catch you up body and soul
and take you with them straight to helland did the child listen to the old woman’s words?
i’m afraid i don’t know, but this i can say;
never was the girl seen again
since that night when the winds howled
through the trees and the sounds of gypsy
laughter danced in the leaves