Well, when it’s night they’ll arise to go dining
on your neck; they home in for a bite.
Teeth like tines mine a vein that is tasty. . .
shoulda stayed in for the night.

Yeah, the warmth of neck’s side has them yearning—
oh so thrilled at the noshing delight.
Into one of them you will be turning,
then you’ll shun sunup and the daylight.

So after you’ve metamorphosed tout de suite-ly,
you’ll be seeking to suck neck of Sue.
You will glom onto her like a sweet pastry:
and ghoulish drool with ensue.

You will be like Bela in the movies
and sometime a bat you’ll turn into.
Your skin will be drawn, puffy, and pasty,
and a chew you won’t eschew.

Then you’re damned and a bane; folks’ll scorn ya;
you’ll furtively lurk nocturnally downtown.
But only till dawning, not longer—
that’s when you head for home ground.

So as the clock approaches morning,
you won’t want to be around.
Now the sun you will always be scorning,
but when nighttime arrives, you’ll rebound.

You’re not bawdy regarding the living
there’s just one you want to get wet:
what pulses from necks purple and veiny
This is a terrific fress!!

They’ll run you down, bane, you ain’t deathless—
A sharp stake with much danger is fraught, yeah!
natives don’t like ghouls—they want pestless.
Your sucking drool drives some to find your plot. . .
shite out o’ luck: a stake pound.