The Fiddleback spider spins its fine web
In the shade of the hemlock plant
There’s a little brown bottle up on the shelf
And busy hands can’t help themselves

Poison makes the world go round
Poison makes the whole world spin

Mary Ann Cotton, dead and forgotten
She lies in her bed, with her eyes wide open
Sing, sing, oh, what can we sing
Mary Ann Cotton is tied up with string

Bring me a bouquet of belladonna
Trimmed with a sprig of mistletoe

Bloodroot, the white poppy, the black widow spider
Hemlock, and the cobra’s kiss

Mary Ann Cotton was hanged from the gallows
And on her grave a strychnine plant grows
In Mary’s footsteps others will follow
For there's no end to what the public will swallow

Where, where? Up in the air
Sellin' black puddins a penny a pair
Poison makes the world go round
Poison makes the whole world spin