In this thing on which we write
(I will not mention the old name)
It reaches out its claws and seems to bight,
With flying tail and flying mane.
Don’t give us no dimes,
Don’t give us no work;
Wastin’ our times,
In the shadows it does lurk.
Like a lion, like a snake;
Like a shovel, like a rake.
I simply say it’s bad,
It’s terrible and it’s sad.
Face it friends, see and look
The horror story written in this book.
Can any of you guess what this book is?