The Were Wolf's Tale Poem by Bobby Mitchum

Even the most religeous man
may cast away his beads
and take the devils dirty hand
to follow where he leads,

may rip away his collar of white
and toss it to wild winds
forsaking God's pure and Holy Light
never caring if He sins.

For it is said when the wolfsbane blooms
and the full moon is in the sky,
that the were wolf's curse of doom
may enter the most gentle eye.

Scoff at me then, if you will
you may smile or even laugh,
but tonight when all is still
do not walk a darkened path,

For the beast haunts the darkest wood
where the shadows are darker still
and it can hear your heart as it pumps your blood
as it tracks you down for the kill.

It's tread upon the ground is light
and moves without making a sound,
through the darkness deep and quiet
moving as softly as fog over ground.

Till it has you in it's steely claws
and you smell it's fetid breath,
and t'will do no good upon God to call
for you are soon to greet your death.

And you will die there all alone
with no one to hear your scream
and the Were wolf will gnaw your bones
beside some blood filled stream.

So stay at home where it is warm and safe
do not trod an unknown trail
for home is the safest place,
to hear the Were Wolf's tale!