The white wolf watches in his the cold mountain side
Disguised by the snow all you see are his eyes
Wise and aware that this land is his home
Hunting the woodlands he prowls fearless alone
He’s the Alpha and he’s huge with a torso like steel
Brothers know him as their leader before him they kneel
Some say he’s vicious and kills because of his hate
But his cubs lick his face and he is loved by his mate
He brays at the moon in the deep northern woods cold
The home of his ancestors from days that oh so old
The natives respected his prowess and brave heart
Live and let live was the way they would part
Freedom is scarce now he stands on the hill so alone
He’s gaunt and he’s hungry no muscle left on the bone
Age and the white hunters have taken their toll
A shot shatters the air and he falls in his death roll
Cubs start to whimper, his mate shields them like an old mother hen
Soon the tracks will lead the hunter’s death back to their den
One more species a spirit in the land of the North
Three wolf cubs delivered to a zoo what’s it worth?
