I'm a voodoo chile, lord I'm a voodoo chile.
Yeah.
The night I was born, lord the moon stood a fire red.
Said the night I was born, the moon turned a fire red.
My poor mother her cryin', she said "The gypsy was right!"
And she fell right dead.

Hey, and he said "Fly on, fly on!", 'cause I'm a voodoo chile, baby
voodoo chile.