White painted fences line the street,
I have her legs, her arms and her feet.
She's been here since last winter time.
Still, mother awaits the doorbell's chime.
She'd come exploring with a light,
that through the darkness shone so bright.
From in my room I heard her feet
And took my axe into the sleet.
Now her head rests in my fridge,
oh, how she shouldn't have crossed that bridge.
I'm warning all you girls and boys,
Who enters my wood, my axe destroys.
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