If your body’s bitten by fangs that lance—yeow!
You’ve gone, baby, to the lobo motion.
Mayhem, you’ll get to like it, and you won’t wear no pants now.
That chew, baby, is the lobo potion.
So you aren’t grazed or bitten, please listen to me,
or else you won’t avoid lycanthropy.
So, go out, you lout, to the lobo motion, you’ll see!

You’ll soon have hirsute hips;
you’ll be crazy—lunge up, attack.
Your chow will be a human snack.

Don’t want to come to this?
Hear my refrain, now,
or else, baby, you’ll do lobo motion.
You’ll chug-a-chug a throat ’n’ you’ll avoid wolfbane, now.
You’ll be crazy for the lobo notion.

Don’t go out a ev’nin’ or you’ll extol
the gambit of throat slittin’. . .your lot, your role.
Don’t go out—your snout will be lobo-pokin’, you’ll see.

Move behind the door. . .anti-lobo motion:
Come on baby, anti-lobo motion.
Get some wolfbane plants—they’re an “anti” potion;
come on baby, anti-lobo potion.

There’s never been a stance that more you oughta do—
it will keep him from snackin’ upon me and you.

You went out, you lout. . .
groove to lobo notion each eve.