Now there lived a conjure-lady, not long ago,
In New Orleans, Louisiana – named Marie Laveau.
Believe it or not, strange as it seem,
She made her fortune selling voodoo, and interpreting dreams.
She was known throughout the nation as the Voodoo Queen.
Folks come to her, from miles and miles around,
She sure know how to put that, that voodoo down.
To the voodoo lady they all would go,
The rich, the educated, the ignorant and the poor.
She’d snap her fingers, and shake her head,
She’d tell them ’bout their lovers – livin’ or dead.
Now an old, old lady named widow Brown,
Asked why her lover, stopped comin’ around
The voodoo gazed at her and squawked
I seen him kissin’ a young girl, up at Shakespeare’s Park
Hanging on an oak tree, in the dark.
Oh Marie Laveau, Oh Marie Laveau,
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