Here, a story
Mother told I
She saw faces
That made her cry
But this one tale
That mother said
Was one so wicked
Stuck in my head
There's a lady
Miss Mary Fole
Her clothes are grey
Her heart is coal
Ole' Miss Fole
Held hate for kids
Kids who stared
Lost their eyelids
Don't you look
For you might find
A cold cat lady
A psycho mind
She says,
"Heathen child
With eyes that stare,
How dare you look
Upon my glare?"
Pull you up by your hair
Drag you down a flight of stairs
Into a basement with cement floor
Chain you up
And lock the door
Mother is outside smoking
I think I hear her choking
Miss Fole is real
Her hands around my mother's throat
She turns her head
Grabs the sleeve
Of my coat
"Heathen child
With eyes that stare,
How dare you look
Upon my glare?"
