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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