They say, during the winter months, she lures in a mountain lion to sleep at the bottom of her bed and keep her feet warm.  

Some allege, she had an experimental organ transplant in France and received a baboon’s liver; that’s why she can drink so much bourbon.

Presumably, if she touches your hair, she can read your thoughts, so don’t let her hand get near your head. 

According to sources, the ghost of Frank Lloyd Wright designed that cabin; she summoned him during a seance, and he guided her hand to sketch the plan.

Word is, every April, she comes to town, takes a lover half her age, uses and abuses him ‘til fall, then sends him back looking twice her age. 

I hear she’s got an army of crows that flies around and finds lost jewelry, then brings it back for her to pawn; that’s the why for her wealth.

It’s been whispered she has a tattoo that says “Ride at Your Own Risk” inked just above her most private of all parts.

By all accounts, for the last thirty years, she’s only eaten Lucky Charms cereal and food she forages from the forest…gets all her protein from crickets. 

Rumor has it, she has a couch down by the creek, where she goes twice a week, to talk to an imaginary therapist. 

Reckon any of it be true?
Guess you’d have to ask her. 
Hell, no, I’m not going near that witch of the woods. 

And that’s just the way she likes it.