Lon Chaney looks down at his feet
And he gets nervous at what his eyes meet:
Canine hair growin' on those feet;
He's a wolf man with a lust for meat.
He's hairfootin', he's hairfootin',
He's hairfootin', he's hairfootin'.

Yeah, what he sees gives him a fright:
Long-crawl talons come out at night.
And that ain't no wig on his head that's cut crew,
And he can't get his pants past feet with no shoes.
He's hairfootin', he's hairfootin'
He's hairfootin', he's hairfootin'.

He can't even get his stretch socks on--
Hairfeet are preternaturally long.
No need for shoes; he throws 'em away,
Can only wear them during the day.
He's hairfootin', he's hairfootin'
He's hairfootin', he's hairfootin'.

Needs a pedicure, manicure too
'Cause he's hairfootin' and got hairhands that grew,
Hard to find anyone who
Works on hairfootin' nails that slice 'em in two.
He's hairfootin', at his pair lookin',
To be barefootin', he need Nairfootin'.