One by one, they marched in line,
All of them with lowered faces.
Slowly, slowly, they passed the time,
All of them going to different places.

And of the burden, only I survive,
For I stopped the lycanthropy.
And it might matter if the children were still alive,
For then everyone could be happy.

And of the townsfolk? They went insane,
When they learned the fiction had been true.
After all, you’d have yourself only left be to blame,
If you came to know what the children knew.