They lurk in the trees and bushes at night
On Summers Eves nights,
During the full moons eight,
Ghostly white faces with horns and grins
And they take their fun out on you.

Playing a trick they may cast a spell
Making believe your in love with another

Their mean little snitches,
That wear dirty patched britches,
And make me want to beat them down.

Every full moon some fool comes along
Making the same mistake as before
Those hobgoblins swoon with laughter
To find another straight victim again

Those pranks get older and we get wiser
Because we find ourselves forewarned