The Raveness Molly, Sybil and Crowley lyrics

Molly Leigh! Won't you come chase me around the apple
tree? Molly Leigh! I bet you a guinea that you can't catch
me. Your evil eye to a sharp sure is ugly. Even if deaf, dumb
or blind no suitor could have been inclined to marry.

Ostracised without a friend through legend, I have heard.
These are the word's the reverend Spencer hath stirred, of
you, the blackbird and that humdrum churchyard.

The graveyard thrilled through the black smoke of kilns,
from the illustrious grandeur of Josiah's potters wheels.
Brushing absurd word through the trees of the forest
enticing you to kill through the pubs throthy spill and during
happy hour, the ale ran sour until!

That rabble-rouser Spencer secret devil's advocate and god's
weasel meddler guide's you past the cottage through the
woods and on to burial.

The blackbird became a plague to the townsfolk, was it some
demonic joke? When you after death were sitting knitting in
the candlelight. In the dead of night, it was time to silence
the fright and carry out the rite to hush your ghost.

The stone was slid aside, that blackbird very much startled
and alive was placed beside you in your reassigned grave.
Once in a Christian east-west direction then turned northsouth

direction. Standing out from all other resting men and
not forgetting a stake was driven through the heart.

Paranoid and obsessed Spencer in a bit of a pickle and as if
possessed became incapable of trusting his judgment.
Molly Leigh! Now curious I dance around your grave on this
all hallows eve. Molly Leigh! Can I tempt you with a
buttered oatcake? My cohort corpse, come and play. I've
been dormant like you all day come chase me around the
apple tree. I bet you a guinea that you can't catch me.

I made my discovery through Sybil leek, who unlike you is a
self-declared diabolist and an associate to a man for whom I
own a fondness the charming Satan spawn, Mr Aleister
Crowley.

Silly Sybil walked around the town with a jackdaw on her
shoulder she was claiming to be a descendant of you and
your Burslem family. Molly Leigh what now can I say?
Spun out I am, and dizzy believing it all to be a figment of
the imagination. For if Molly Leigh the rumour was true I'd
be chasing you around the apple tree as a result of this
incantation.