Were-Llama
| Master Cerian Cantwr |
| Chorus: | |
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Miguel, el se llama, he is a were-llama, Who's saddened each month by the beast he becomes. For it is no treat, to trade hands for feet - You can't play castanets without thumbs. |
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| Verses: | |
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I want all to know of my sad tale of woe, Beneath a full moon I grow fur and a tail. This lunar linked mess has me in distress, And at my misfortune I rail. Oh. Oh. Oh. I saw a strange sight, beneath full moon's light, A lone llama wand'ring wherever it chose I tried to give chase, but it spat in my face - And then it bit me on my nose. OW! OW! OW! The pain was colossus in my poor proboscis. I quickly felt sickly, my body went numb. My weight, it did double - my diet's in trouble, I started to eat grass and hum. Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm. My mind was so blurry with worry I'm furry. My mem'ries are mixed up, a muzzy morass. I woke scared to death, with the worst morning breath, And a mouthful of partly chewed grass. Yuck! Yuck! Bleaugh!!!! So now I get fleas, which itch, and I sneeze. Much to my unease, I'm allergic to wool. My teeth I do gnash, 'cause I'm covered in rash And dandruff flakes foul and frightful. Oh I itch. So do not be girt with a shaggy hair shirt. Steer clear of queer quadrupeds in the moonlight. Leave llamas like me, 'ware lycanthropy, Or else you will share in my plight. Remember: |
| This page maintained by Cerian Cantwr, cerian@minstrel.com. |