People walk the streets at day,
but at night no one go out,
A creature stalks the alleys and woods,
a beast that's tall and stout.

The moon grows full for three whole nights,
and terror strikes the town,
lock your doors and draw your drapes,
when the sun goes down.

A howl will pierce the midnight air,
like a wolves lonely cry,
the paper will tell of a horrible death,
and how one has died.

You'll need silver to kill this beast,
for it cannot be done with lead,
it takes courage, strength, perfect aim,
before this beast is dead.

Many came and many tried,
and many more will come,
shots are heard and horrible screams,
and yet the beast lives on.