Lady Annabelle, they found her headSuicide on purpose, well that's what they saidThough it's a fact that she loved to be readWe suppose she didn't like this way to lose the actLady Annabelle, oh well, well, wellLady Annabelle, she was a mixture of an Indian manAnd an Eskimo wifeAnd she was raised in a Kikuyu tribeFrom her very youthShe used to read all the booksThe books of Satan made her feel goodWith a sadistic attitudeLady Annabelle, oh well, well, wellAnd when you saw her with those bruises on her skinYou would believe there must be something funnySomething funnyConjuring spirits was her hobby and her thingWhat she admired was what normal people hateLady Annabelle, oh well, well, well, well, well, well, ehLady Annabelle, oh well, well, well, well, well, well, ehLady Annabelle, oh well, well, well, well, well, well, ehLady Annabelle, she was the pattern of Satan's mindI'm sure she'd beat it in, if she had lived in his timeLady Annabelle, she loved painful experimentsWith her special friends, and her torture instrumentsLady Annabelle oh well, well, wellLady Annabelle oh well, well, well, well, well, wellLady Annabelle oh well, well, well, well, well, well, wellLady Annabelle oh well, well, well, well, well, well, wellLady Annabelle oh well, well, well, well, well, wellLady Annabelle oh well, well, well, well, well, wellLady Annabelle oh well, well, well, well, well, wellLady AnnabelleOh well, well, well, well, well, wellLady AnnabelleOh well, well, well, well, well