In the frozen Russian night, Where moonlight cuts the trees in white, A shadow moves — the woods take fright, For Anastasia hunts tonight.

With fangs that gleam, with eyes that burn, She waits for those who never learn; The children dream — they twist, they turn — But none will wake when she returns.

The wolves all bow, their howls grow dim, They dare not cross the path of him — No, her — the queen of fang and fear, When Anastasia’s name draws near.

So if you see her, do not stay, Don’t breathe, don’t speak — just run away.