Goin’ to go lobo.
Ah-oooooooooooooooo!

Well, there’s a place outside of town-a
and people there are getting brought down-a,
because it is the lair
of a thing with wild hair
from his toes clear up to his crown-a.

Don’t go to the lobo (heavy body)
Or you will go lobo (stay home, now!)
I tell you, don’t go, no!
On you he’ll dine, yeah!

You’re goin’ to the lobo (ah-oooooooooooo!),
goin’ to go lobo, baby, stay home now.
It sure does matter where you are-a:
the lobo can be found
where loco people at night walk.
Their throats are locked
by jaws—they don’t feel up to par-a. . .
throat ripped by the lobo.

And then their bodies. . .
Goin’ to go lobo
(Owwwwwwwwwwwwww!!)
You don’t wanna go
So people, stay home now

[protracted howling]

You are goin’ to go lobo
Yes, you are now, goin’ to go lobo
Not to bow-wow

You’ll get real nasty when daylight flags-a
You’ll lope through woods and leap over crags-a
I’m gonna get a gun and drop you when you run
With shells cast from melted silver swag-a

Goin’ to blow lobo
Awa-a-a-a-ay
Though I once did know lobo
As best friend, Ra-a-ay

[fade on gunshots and the murmur of people marveling as recumbent, riddled Ray resumes human form]