Twenty-Three

In a small quiet house, in a small quiet town

A boy found the body of old lady Brown

The people had called the woman a witch

And they said her soul was as black as pitch

But she couldn't cast spells - she knew no magic

Her secrets were more sinister, more evil,  more tragic

She knew a great deal about science and medicine

And poison and hallucinogens to make your head spin

Twenty-three husbands in twenty-three years

Every single one had mysteriously disappeared

And, can you guess what they found in the basement dirt?

That's right, some jars, a pipe, and an old flannel shirt

Oh yeah, and twenty-three skulls