Good news! The Witch, she's dead!
Come out, come out, she's gone!
Good news
She's dead
The Witch of the West is dead
The wickedest witch there ever was
The enemy of all of us here in Oz
Is dead
Good news
Good news
Look! It's Glinda!
No one mourns the Wicked
No one cries, "They won't return"
No one lays a lily on their grave
The good man scorns the Wickеd
Through their lives, our children lеarn
What we miss when we misbehave
Yes, Goodness knows
the Wicked's lives are lonely
Goodness knows the Wicked cry alone
Nothing grows for the Wicked
They reap only what they've sown
Miss Glinda
Why does Wickedness happen?
That's a good question
Are people born Wicked?
Or do they have Wickedness thrust upon them?
After all, the Wicked Witch had a childhood
She had a father, who by the way,
had been appointed Governor of Munchkinland
I'm off to the assembly, dear
And she had a mother, as so many do
And, like every family, they had their secrets
And one thing led to another, as it so often does
But from the moment the witch was born,
she was, well, different
Take it away
Take it away!
And so, it couldn't have been easy
No one mourns the Wicked
Now, at last, she's dead and gone
Now, at last, there's joy throughout the land
And Goodness knows
We know what Goodness is
Goodness knows the Wicked die alone
Woe to those (Woe to those)
Who spurn what Goodnesses
They are shown
No one mourns the Wicked
No one mourns the Wicked
No one mourns the Wicked
Wicked
Wicked