Voodoo Queen of New Orleans

She was tall and lovely from 'way down south, she had blood on her hands, blood on her mouth. She got voodoo spells and incantations. She lived on one of those big plantations. Had she done something bad? Well I don’t know. She went by the name of Marie Laveau. She had golden skin and curly black hair. Down near the bayou you could find her there. With her big old snake wrapped around and 'round, it was party time when the sun went down. Cauldron would bubble and naked they'd dance. Potions concocted, 'round the fire she’d prance. She had a mojo hand, a black cat bone. You’d never want her to catch you alone. There were stories told of the men she’d charmed; take her husband Jacques, he wasn't alarmed, he just disappeared, he never returned, just ashes left and the incense she burned. Marie has a tomb down in New Orleans, she'll be ever known as the Voodoo Queen. Eternally lives as a big black crow, the fire in its eyes is a reddish glow. Scratch three X’s, leave a gift in the glass, then make your wish, it just might come to pass.