Old Maid - Ilsa

They​ ​called​ ​her​ ​evil

Hung​ ​her​ ​from​ ​a​ ​tree

Mistook​ ​her​ ​medicine

For​ ​wicked​ ​sorcery

Wiley​ ​old​ ​woman

With​ ​no​ ​family​ ​of​ ​her​ ​own

To​ ​Hell​ ​with​ ​Christians

May​ ​they​ ​reap​ ​what​ ​they​ ​have​ ​sown

For​ ​weeks​ ​her​ ​captors​ ​held​ ​her

In​ ​a​ ​dungeon​ ​dark​ ​and​ ​damp

Her​ ​body​ ​broken

Thumbs​ ​pulverized​ ​by​ ​clamps

Yet​ ​her​ ​mind​ ​was​ ​strong

For​ ​no​ ​wrong​ ​had​ ​she​ ​done

She​ ​feared​ ​not​ ​life​ ​or​ ​death

Her​ ​purpose​ ​became​ ​one:

Reject​ ​the​ ​teachings​ ​of​ ​a​ ​greedy​ ​perverse​ ​church

Spreading​ ​subordinance​ ​and​ ​lies​ ​of​ ​virgin​ ​birth

She’d​ ​taught​ ​the​ ​secrets​ ​of​ ​the​ ​forests,​ ​seas​ ​and​ ​skies

The​ ​cycles​ ​of​ ​the​ ​moon

And​ ​all​ ​the​ ​earth​ ​provides

Captured​ ​when​ ​her​ ​heathen​ ​home​ ​was​ ​raided

Turned​ ​in​ ​by​ ​the​ ​villagers​ ​she'd​ ​aided

And​ ​when​ ​they​ ​took​ ​her

To​ ​the​ ​oak​ ​tree​ ​where​ ​she'd​ ​hang

She​ ​raised​ ​her​ ​bloodied​ ​head

In​ ​crystal​ ​voice​ ​she​ ​sang

«Dīs​ ​Pater,​ ​Spirits​ ​of​ ​the​ ​dead

I​ ​fear​ ​not​ ​what​ ​awaits

For​ ​just's​ ​the​ ​life​ ​I've​ ​lead

May​ ​your​ ​guilt

Live​ ​deep​ ​within​ ​your​ ​blood

May​ ​stress​ ​and​ ​cancers​ ​blossom

As​ ​a​ ​flower​ ​buds!»

Now​ ​we​ ​wonder​ ​where​ ​the​ ​worlds​ ​magic​ ​has​ ​gone

We​ ​search​ ​the​ ​continents​ ​for​ ​some​ ​truth​ ​to​ ​hang​ ​on

But​ ​I​ ​know​ ​we've​ ​lost​ ​much​ ​knowledge​ ​once​ ​possessed

Burned,​ ​broken,​ ​hung

By​ ​Christ​ ​our​ ​Lord​ ​suppressed

Burned,​ ​broken,​ ​hung

Let​ ​Jesus'​ ​will​ ​be​ ​done