Well, they got no choice, undead girls and boys. . .
skin clammy and moist. . .all instinct, no ploys.
Well, their eating habits will make you gag;
they’re draped in scabrous, scruffy rags.
Ghouls sprout at sun dirge,
ghouls sprout—they’ll getcha,
ghouls tear you to pieces.

Gorge on hemoglobin food,
gorge on tracheas. . .rather rude. Yech!
Well, they’ll chomp your ass,
and they’ll chomp your pinkies, pal,
and they’ll chomp your innards, Ken.
They can’t think; they just wanna dine.
Ghouls sprout when sun’s gone,
ghouls sprout—you betcha,
ghouls are not where peace is.
Gorge on hemoglobin (blood)
full-bodied fluid not Bud!

Sprout when sun’s gone, sprout then call
for your body, guts and all.
Ghouls sprout when sets sun,
ghouls sprout; they’re some scourge!
Ghouls sprout—your femur’s
chewed out completely!