I was climbing a high mountain,
When running through the field—
One, no maybe there’s two
Oh no, there’s more than two!
Then they lunge,
One and all.
I start to run, but I fall. . .
Fear that I’ll be mauled,
Fear I’ll be mauled—
Know what I have to do.

I’ll be killed by these hounds that are looking sore,
I’ll be killed by these hounds and be bathed in gore.

They have got hungry lips,
And teeth bones have got honed tips.
They’re burning with ire;
I yearn. . .not expire.

Puffs of smoke come from gun at close range;
Dumdums hamper their canine revels.
I was warned just in time.
So I roll ’em on home.

I had killed all the hounds from Acheron’s shore,
I had killed all the hounds were looking for gore.

I believe that cuisine has come—
Red is the color when I bleed each one,
Bleeding each one.
Well dressed, canine dumplings.

The smoking’s on—
In they go, flames are made.
Carried across,
Charon they’ve paid;
Charcoal’s arrayed.
Tables turned—I’ll teethe them.

I have killed Hades hounds, and I’m cooking four,
I have killed hungry hounds, and I’m cooking four,
I have killed harry hounds, and I’m cooking four,
I am still hungry—hounds, more I’m looking for.