Back in the woods,
in a little ol’ town.

There sits a grave
on unholy ground.

It’s covered in leaves
and things that crawl.

Buried in weeds
and the vines that sprawl.

The light is dim
and the wind grows cold.

Her name was Nellie,
she was ten years old.

She killed her family
and fed on their fat.

She killed their dog
to feed her cat.

She haunted the neighbors
with her spells and her tricks.

She stabbed at their ankles
with nails and sharp sticks.

She danced in the shadows
to a devilish tune.

Calling up spirits,
and drawing down the moon.

She struck fear in their hearts,
on those long, lonely nights.

They locked doors and windows,
and left on their lights.

Through darkness and shadows,
and under their beds.

She’d tickle their toes
and chop off their heads.

In the County they gathered,
they came to the church.

With pitch fork and lantern
they started their search.

Long into the night,
they followed her trails.

They searched all the shadows,
and deep into wells.

When they found her half crazed,
she put up a fight.

They killed her by fire,
screams echoing in the night.

They buried her bones
on the unholy ground.

A secret they kept,
to their graves, it was bound.

If you hear it, don’t tell it,
you’ll regret if you do.

For if you dare speak it,
she’ll come back, after you.

Her grave, if you find it
and dare be so bold.

You’ll remember Nellie,
she was ten years old.