rom dawn to dusk he lives
And breathes like any other soul.
Yet his changeling self arrives
Whenever the moon shines full.
Although he's only temporary,
Beware the werecanary!

Feathers sprout along his cheeks.
His arms transform to wings.
His lips soon turn into a beak
And then he starts to sing.
You won't find him in an aviary.
Beware the werecanary!

He'll perch upon your windowsill
And launch into his repertoire.
Beginning with a sudden trill,
He'll warble, whistle, coo and caw.
No...he's not imaginary.
Beware the werecanary!

You'll marvel at his tone so true,
Yet all he knows are Broadway tunes,
Overtures and codas, too,
From Cabaret to Brigadoon,
Both classic and contemporary.
Beware the werecanary!

West Side Story, even Cats,
He'll burn these scores into your brain.
You'll hum the theme to Camelot
Until you think you are insane.
There is no sanctuary.
Beware the werecanary!

Don't dare to interrupt his song!
He'll call his kin both were and true.
The silence will not last for long.
Then they'll peck you black and blue,
And leave you with a coronary.
Beware! Beware...the werecanary!