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In Coimbra's streets, where shadows dwell,

A tale of darkness few could tell.

Luísa’s hands, once soft with care,

Became the tools of grim despair.

She sought the babes abandoned, lost,

For riches gained, no care the cost.

A different name each time she’d take,

A mother’s mask for greed’s own sake.

Thirty-three souls, so young, so small,

She took their lives, she stole them all.

For cloth and coin, their breath she stilled,

Their cradles quiet, never filled.

In Roda’s halls, her steps were light,

A mother’s face hid cruel delight.

Each baby lost was left behind,

In pieces cold, by hands unkind.

She sought the babes abandoned, lost,

For riches gained, no care the cost.

A different name each time she’d take,

A mother’s mask for greed’s own sake.

Thirty-three souls, so young, so small,

She took their lives, she stole them all.

For cloth and coin, their breath she stilled,

Their cradles quiet, never filled.

Her crimes were known, the streets would speak,

Of children lost, their futures bleak.

They found her home, the horrors there,

The tiny bodies stripped and bare.

In 1772, her fate was sealed,

With iron chains, her hands revealed.

No mercy shown, no tear was shed,

As justice claimed the lives she bled.

She sought the babes abandoned, lost,

For riches gained, no care the cost.

A different name each time she’d take,

A mother’s mask for greed’s own sake.

Thirty-three souls, so young, so small,

She took their lives, she stole them all.

For cloth and coin, their breath she stilled,

Their cradles quiet, never filled.

And so she met the garrote’s grip,

Her final breath, her life to slip.

But still the whispers softly call,

Of Luísa’s fall, the darkest of all.

She sought the babes abandoned, lost,

For riches gained, no care the cost.

A different name each time she’d take,

A mother’s mask for greed’s own sake.

She sought the babes abandoned, lost,

For riches gained, no care the cost.

A different name each time she’d take,

A mother’s mask for greed’s own sake.