I’m Henery the J., I am,
Henery the J. I am, I am.
I’m not scary till the wickedness pour—
Then I’m hairy, a nice gent no more.
When changes come; I’m not Henery—
A good man not after I swill a dram.
Then an ape I am—not Henery,
Excess-seeking ape I am.

Second curse, worse than the first.

I’m Henery the changed, I am,
Henery the strange I am, I am.
I’m quite scary to the bimbos and whores;
They are wary that my knife will score,
But then a gun gets the best of me;
A bullet serves to kill me; I can’t scram.
Then they gape—“Whoa, man, it’s Henery!
Henery the J. dies and. . .

H-E-N-R-Y. Henery, Henery,
Henery is slain, nice man, nice man.
Henery became Hyde man.”