It’s dread hell foe Scary Lu’;
“Lu’” is short
for “Lupine”; you know
what he wants to do:

He’ll chew, Scary Lu’,
on you and snort.
You yell, “No, Scary Lu’!”…
last resort.

He doesn’t come out during day;
the moon rises and he bays.
It’s best at night that you should stay indoors.
If you should happen to go out,
it’s quite likely you’ll face a rout.
Canines will rip you after incisors.

That’s dread hell foe Scary Lu’.
Stay indoors.
He’s “Lupine,” and he’ll
make a meal of you.

He’ll scoot, Scary Lu’,
’round on all fours
You yell, “No, Scary Lu’!”
Then you’re cored.

Flare back his lips, inhuman voice;
when you meet him, you won’t rejoice.
Five courses will you be for his buffet.
You walk out on a moonlit night,
he’ll sneak up on you and bite;
you can’t fight even in your buffed way.

Bays, crazed, bellows Scary Lu’;
he’ll make short
ribs outta you—
there’s nothing you can do.

He’ll chew, Scary Lu’,
on you and snort.
You yell, “No, Scary Lu’,
you bad sport!”
He views you, Scary Lu’,
as a torte.

You yell, “No, Scary Lu’!”
and find scant hope.
He’s hell foe Scary Lu’,
lycanthrope.