Not wanting to pull any punches, I try to begin the story in the thick of things.

Read: The Werewolf Epic

The addition:

Aged mother, who loves grandchild dear,
how weak have you become. When once the wolf,
thy sole companion in this dreary world,
stared hungrily upon the bloom, you knew
its wanton tastes, and sought to frustrate them.
Purest delight thou sacrificed, to save
a daughter young. Her little breasts, as yet
unformed, you sent the girl away upon
the sunlit road. Only by paths of man
and only in the day, could she travers
safe from his wicked scheme. So how has he
now like a puppet rendered you, and put
upon himself your skin? You shared your bed,
and cooked the hunt he caught, yet still you knew.