A beast, with raging desire
eating filthy rot
- consuming men, old and young -
drinks souls, like a sot.

The monster's power is this:
he hides sickly breath;
it smells of sweetest perfume
thinly masking death.

What's more, he mesmerizes
men with siren call.
Victims there go willingly,
desp'rate to give all.

Men find the beast in some swamp,
oozing stinking bile;
seeing fangs, fearing not, say
"I'll stay a short while."

The shorter the while he stays
the better for him:
each second he lingers there
spells death, dark and grim.


The banquet has now begun,
man meets monster's gaze.
Dark magic be-fools his eyes,
desire now ablaze.

Gazing, longing, he walks now,
to the monster's maw - 
his thoughts are all of pleasure,
before open jaw.

The hunger overwhelms him.
He lets go his will.
Seeking to be satisfied,
fantasy to fill.

Jaws that break through flesh and bone
close now on the fool
He sees danger, now too late;
his death, sure and cruel.


Beware the beast, all you men,
if you value life!
It looks all satisfaction,
but conceals the knife.