(Verse 1) Deep in the woods where the pine needles bleed, And the twisted roots grow from a poisonous seed, There's a hut that stands on chicken bones, With a voice of grating, cracking stones. She flies in a mortar, a pestle her guide, With a hunger that never is satisfied. Old Baba Yaga, with iron teeth, She grinds down the bones of the kids she bequeaths. (Chorus - Sung in a layered, chanting harmony) Lonsh calz vonpho! Dors ta babalonus! Micalz chis dls, od blans! Solpeth bien! (Verse 2) The village children know to stay well away, Or be the main course at the break of the day. A fence posts her garden, a grim, grisly sight, Skull-lanterns that glow with a sickly green light. She sharpens her nails on the stones of the stream, And cooks up her nightmares in a blasphemous dream. The scent of her oven, of gingerbread sweet, Is a trap for the innocent, tender young feet. (Chorus - Sung with increasing intensity) Lonsh calz vonpho! Dors ta babalonus! Micalz chis dls, od blans! Solpeth bien! Forest, hear my cry! Protect this son of man! Turn the wicked's eye, and save him! By the power of the sun!) (Verse 3) One boy named Ivan, with no fear in his heart, Wandered too far from the village cart. The hut spun around, and the door creaked up wide, Revealing the witch with a cavernous inside. "I smell a young ruskl" she cackled with glee, "Tonight, little morsel, you'll feed only me!" But Ivan stood firm, though his knees they did shake, And a single, smart plan he decided to make. (Bridge - Music softens, becomes more tense and narrative) He did not beg, and he did not cry, He just looked the old hag in her single, dark eye. "You are powerful, Mother, of that there's no doubt, But your fence is a mess, all tattered throughout. A witch of your stature, so mighty and grand, Should have a servant no weak human hand. I am small and I'm clever, with quick, nimble fingers, I can mend all your gates till their strength truly lingers." (Verse 4) Baba Yaga paused, her iron teeth still. Her hunger was checked by a pragmatic will. She looked at her fence, at the skulls that were cracked, And considered the value of this clever new pact. A smile like a crack in a dried-up old log, Spread over her face through the swirling fog. "Fine," she then hissed, "You shall work for your life. Escape foolishness, and you'll stay 'neath my knife." (Chorus - Sung triumphantly, as a declaration of survival) Lonsh calz vonpho! Dors ta babalonus! Micalz chis dls, od blans! Solpeth bien! (Forest, hear my cry! Protect this son of man! Turn the wicked's eye, and save him! By the power of the sun!) (Outro) So Ivan worked swiftly, 'til the first light of dawn, And from that day forward, a legend was born. Of the boy who outwitted the witch in the wood, Not with a sword, but with wits, which are good. And Baba Yaga, she still hunts and she preys... But she always remembers the one who got away. (Music fades out with a final, echoing whisper of the Enochian chant)
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