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THE LOOMING MOON
By Roy Merritt

The looming moon in the night 
A pale cold vision within my sight 
Staggering beauty it may be 
And I know I should surely flee 
For it is full perfectly round 
And soon enough that wretched sound 
That wretched sound that eerie howl 
And soon enough a frightful growl 
The lust for blood will soon arise 
And none about will be surprised 
For it is certain the lycanthrope 
Will feel its lure and then erupt 
And burst about upon the scene 
And do what it must that brutal fiend 
And with fangs flashing bright 
Will pursue its victims throughout the night 
Bringing death the very worse 
To fill its need its terrible thirst 
Neither neighbor nor greatest friend 
Can alter the beast that dwells within 
Within the soul the crushing sea 
The curse of this lycanthropy 
What shall be done what course to take 
Knowing this curse shall never break 
And so he shrinks within his cave 
And were it so it'd be his grave 
Forever free from this dreadful sight 
That once a month will incite 
Incite his soul to lurid deeds 
And all he encounters lies and bleeds 
Go away and come no more 
That looming moon I so abhor 
Free the one that comes each time 
That fosters blood like flowing wine 
Free him God from your heavenly doom 
And cast away that looming moon 
Free him God I do plea 
For the lycanthrope is 'er but me

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