Jack and his bud went upnorth you see
To go hunting for a wompus kitty
My words are as true as the clouds are free
You know I know cause his bud was me

We sat still, next to a low fire burning
So quietly, totally, and horribly learning
From my Grandpa John, his tale he was churning
While with a long stick the coals he was turning

The wompus cat is terrible big
In the middle a body, at each end a head
So mean he can kill with a look he said
And with that the last of the fire fell dead

As we sat in the dark so scared we froze
Gramps asked why’s he so mean you suppose
Cause he’s got two ends that bite, and none that goes
I think that’s when the pop shot out Mike’s nose