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The Wooden Wife is based around a Ukrainian folk tale. It's a ghostly tale about 'letting go'. Here are the lyrics:

The Wooden Wife 
VERSE 1
Come, hear a tale of man and wife,
who loved each other very well.
The man, much skilled with whittling knife,
carved toys which they would sometimes sell.
And both could stalk the forest game.
As hunters, they were much the same.
And love lit up their hearth and hame.
This is the story that I tell.
VERSE 2
They hunted, often, side by side—
with bow and snares. Their steps were strong.
but deer tracks led them far and wide.
Once she stayed home when trails grew long.
He trekked alone through sleet and snow,
but game escaped his traps and bow.
He neither brought down buck or doe.
Without his wife, the hunt seemed wrong.
BRIDGE 1
When he returned she was  in bed;
a fever hot behind her eyes.
She kissed his hand. “Hunt on!,” she said.
Her breath grew faint; her words were sighs.
He wept and sat with her all night.
By dawn, her soul had taken flight.
He knew that she had lost the fight.
No neighbours came to sympathize.
VERSE 4
He carved her likeness out of pine,
and clothed the doll in her old dress.
He propped her in a fireplace shrine:
a mute companion, motionless.
Each night he brushed her ashen face,
and whispered words to empty space.
He called her soul, by Heaven's grace.
Though he was lost and powerless.
BRIDGE 2
A year of living with the pain:
a year of hunting on his own.
He struggled on through snow and rain,
He had no friends. He lived alone.
One night he found the fire’d been lit;
a deer was turning on the spit.
She had returned, alive and fit.
She had returned, from parts unknown.
VERSE 6
He watched her carry wood and sweep;
her garment was a ghostly white.
“We cannot touch,” she said, “or sleep
until we share the firelight
of kinsfolk, who must swear I’m here.”
He nodded, though he shed a tear.
He prayed she would not disappear.
He dared not draw her close at night.
 
VERSE 7
They walked through snow, six days or more,
towards her village – kith and kin.
And they were frozen to the core,
wrapped round in furs and cold as sin.
At night he broke and held her fast—
her voice cried out. The moment passed.
He felt a chilling north wind blast. 
And held a pinewood mannequin. 
VERSE 8
Then he ran wild and told his tale.
They followed him and saw his grief.
Two sets of tracks wound down the vale—
and one set beggared all belief.
Beside cold ash his doll lay prone,
its body hard as any stone.
He knew that he must live alone.
He mourned her but found no relief.
VERSE 9
And some who heard it marked the tale.
They warned young men of love too wild:
“Beware of touch beyond the veil:
the vanished face, the phantom child.
Let mem’ry be, what it must be.
The soul that won’t let souls be free,
is lost upon an endless sea,
to find that it has been beguiled.”

OUTRO

The Wooden Wife

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