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My mother was obsessed by evil jealousy |
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She didn't want nobody to even look at |
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MollyShe kept me locked up in this attic till |
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I diedOnly 4 years old, my story left untold |
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Oh, MollyOh, |
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MollyMother was struck by this infallible idea |
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If she could paint my portrait |
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I would remain immortal |
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And I could hang downstairs above the fireplace |
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A little girl in lace, not a single trace of crime |
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Trace of crime |
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Each day and night she worked and autumn turned to spring |
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For every stroke she painted a little life was ended |
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At last I felt so weak |
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I could not even speak |
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But in that fatal portrait my spirit came to life again |
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Oh, MollyThat night |
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I made the portrait speak in evil tongue |
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You're gonna go beyond too, may pain and death bestow you |
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She grabbed a book and spoke aloud an ancient rhyme |
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While she burned the portrait in the candle of fate |
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Oh, MollyI've gotta see ma |
