Her name is Chupa, the Chupacabra,
With ugly spikeys in her hair and a spine exposed to air.
She don’t meringue, don’t do no cha-cha,
But it’s the thing she does the best, That most people do detest.
She does it all night long, just listen to my song.
One day a goat will be walking by,
Next he’s awfully dry.

She’s the Chupa (Chup), the Chupacabra (Chupacabra)
Her mealtime’s a taste of macabre (Yeah?)
Yes, the Chupa (Chup), the Chupacabra (Ooh),
She sucks goat’s blood and she’s not my bud
Yes she’s the Chupa….She strikes at night.

His name was Pico. He was a farmer.
He once had 30 head of goat, now not one darn sheepskin coat,
Because the Chupa, she paid a visit.
And while our Pico slept in bed, Chup enjoyed much blood-a-red,
Pico woke up that day,
Did not know what to say,
There was blood and some 30 goat heads,
He knelt down to pray. She’s the Chupa (Chup), the Chupacabra (Chupacabra),
Her mealtime’s a taste of macabre (Yeah?)
Yes, the Chupa (Chup), the Chupacabra (Ooh),
She sucks goat’s blood and she’s not my bud
Yes she’s the Chupa….She strikes at night.