Zingaro  Blue 

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In the Norfolk Village of East Somerton 
In the grounds of Burnley Hall
Stands the ancient ruin of St.Marys church
And a tree that stands so tall
Now the tale of the witches finger
Unfolds through this old oak tree 
Matured from hate, it could seal your fate
So take heed or a wretch you will be

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Walk three times round the tree
Cause there’s magic there you’ll see
When the moon is high
In the clear of the night
If you you dare you could set her soul free

In the clear of the night
And when the moons high
If you dare you could set her soul free

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So the story goes that a tree arose
From a hole in the central nave
Some 400 years since the church was raised
On top of the old witches grave
The years took their toll as they left gaping holes 
and now but a tower remains
No more bells to ring as the ghostly monks sing
To the sound of her tormented groans
 

On that fateful night, they entrapped her
And buried her deep in that hole
And as she went down she cursed them out loud
And vowed that she’d punish their souls
They say you can still feel her anger
If you choose to linger a while
But the ruins give no clue, to a witch they once knew
Forsaken, abandoned, defiled

For the old wooden witch of East Somerton 
‘Neath the grounds of Burnley Hall
In St Mary’s she’ll wait, filled with vengeance and hate
Under the oak tree thats still standing tall
And the people they just keep on coming
Careless, forgetful and blind
So in the cold of the night
Keep away, out of sight
Bear in mind she’s no love for mankind