[Verse 1: Appalachian murder-ballad male lead, low and dark over a stomp kick] It was the hungry end of autumn, and the pot was scraped to tin And the hounds were ribs and whimper, and the cold was creepin' in I went out to split some kindlin', and I seen it in the pile Somethin' long and low and yellow-eyed that grinned a crooked smile Had a tail as thick as rope, boys, slappin' slow against the wood And I reckon I was starvin', and I reckon it smelled good So I brought the hatchet down before the thing could get away And it squealed off up the holler, but the tail, the tail, it stayed And I stewed it by the fire, and the hounds got none, I'm afraid [Hook: Appalachian murder-ballad male lead, full stomp] Seconds, I scraped the kettle low, I licked the ladle slow Best I ate since I was little, and the fire was burnin' low Now there's somethin' on the roof, and it's scratchin' to and fro I went back for seconds, now I got seconds left to go [Verse 2: Appalachian murder-ballad male lead, meaner, the stomp kick heavier] First night came the scratchin' underneath the cabin floor And a voice like wet burlap sayin' "where's my tail" against the door So I sent old Blue to see it, and old Blue went out the yard And I heard him once out yonder, then the dark went quiet and hard Second night it asked again, so I sent out Sal and Pete And I found their collars mornin' on the porch, laid out real neat Third night it didn't ask me, and that's the night I understood It ain't lookin' for the tail no more, it's learned what tastes good It had its firsts already, and it's waitin' like it should [Hook: Appalachian murder-ballad male lead, full stomp] Seconds, I scraped the kettle low, I licked the ladle slow Best I ate since I was little, and the fire was burnin' low Now there's somethin' on the roof, and it's scratchin' to and fro I went back for seconds, now I got seconds left to go [Verse 3: Appalachian murder-ballad male lead, pickslide scrape on every line end, no breath into the hook] Now it's Halloween, and every lamp I own is burnin' bright And I'm sittin' with the hatchet and the shotgun and the light And I hear it on the shingles, takin' slow and patient steps And I hear it in the chimney, takin' slow and patient breaths It had firsts out in the yard, three hounds, and every one And it ain't the kind to waste, boys, and it ain't the kind that's done Now I hear it in the rafters, and I hear it on the stair And it's hungry like I was, and it's polite, and it don't care And it's lickin' at the ladle that I left beside the pot And it's comin' down the ladder, and it's comin' back for [Final Hook: Appalachian murder-ballad male lead, full stomp] Seconds, I scraped the kettle low, I licked the ladle slow Best I ate since I was little, and the fire was burnin' low Now there's somethin' on the roof, and it's scratchin' to and fro I went back for seconds, now I got seconds left to go [End]
