Lycanthropy - G.B.H.

Lycanthropy is in his blood

And spreads to those he slays

Uncontrolled metamorphosis

Undetectable by day

But when the moon is waxing

And all the world’s asleep

Through woods and fields

The werewolf he will creep

Even a man who is pure heart

And says his prayers at night.

Can become a werewolf when the wolfsbane blooms

And the Autumn moon is bright

He instinctively seeks to kill

The thing he loves the best

He’ll bare his teeth, growl and snarl

And wish upon you death

His suffused eyes will glare in hate

Silver-grey hair will shine

He’ll grip you in his muscular arms

And on your your flesh will dine

Cures are rare for this schizophrenic

A Marfisa flower is a start

Silver topped cane, a crucifix

A silver bullet through the heart