The Old Oak and its Mystic Child (original)

The old folk of this small town spoke
Sang songs and told tales
Of the old oak

One of these tales
they use to tell,
Was of a strange woodland child
named Annabel

She used to sing, chant and dance
Muttering ungodly words to herself
and the old oak
As if in a trance

But truth was, being half townsfolk
and something not half as good
Gave her the power to speak to the living wood

But no harm was ever caused by this little girl
She just seemed a little strange
in the head
But still, she was so feared for whatever she was
The towns people thought it be best
that she be dead

So out of fear and fear alone
The towns people picked up their burning
torches and raggedy pitchforks
only to surround her and realise that
by the time they acted
she was fully grown

So, Annabel came up with a few surprises
for when the moon rises
All she had to do was mutter a few words of tree
And all the towns people began to flee

For you see, the tree pulled its
roots up
Walking around around the town with
the witch child
Causing a muck

Annabel came to the conclusion
that if the whole town wanted her
to die
Then the whole town goes byebye

And that was the last story ever told
Of the little town of Oakenfold