Portland Werewolf Poem

I used this a couple of months ago during a game of Werewolf at the Lucky Lab when my fellow villagers accused me of being a werewolf. Inexplicably, I was still lynched.

I Am Not A werewolf.

A werewolf? Nay, a mere cobbler I.
Content to make solid boots
For my stolid fellow villagers.

A werewolf? Nay, would that I were.
Not for me the taste of blood in the night.
Or soft flesh torn by my pitiless fangs.
Nor the smell of fear on the night air
As my pitiful shrieking victim haplessly flees.

A Werewolf? I? Nay, yet were I wolf
There would be not a man among you safe
From my hideous lust for blood.
My accusers, you are mere lumpen bags of meat.
Yet I am one of you, I swear.