On a cold winter night
With the moon big and bright
As the town lay asleep in their beds
Near the [bad word] gate
By the side of the lake
Lay Mary with an axe in her head
In the morning they found
Her sad withered bones
Some children just walking to school
They screamed at the sight
In the strange morning light
And whispered the [bad word] 
Poor Mary Moore her short life is o'er
She will do unto them what they did to her 

Then Mary did rise
Wiped the blood from her eyes
And told them to follow her lead
They got right in line
And they stumbled behind
For this girl they would do any deed
From house to stone house
They wandered about
And slaughtered whomever they'd see
Woman or man
Their mothers their dads
Without hesitation or grief

Poor Mary Moore her short life is o'er
She will do unto them what they did to her

Then Mary did grin
Took an axe in her hand
And chopped down the children like weeds
She had to be sure
So she murdered them all
'Til the blood did pour through the streets
And I know you have seen
Like the haunt of a dream
This girl so fair and unclean
Teaching the youth
Forever the [bad word] This world is vicious and mean