A Wolven Battle Hymn
Gutteral growl cloves
The darksome night serene
As padded paws advance in droves
Scarcely heard, more scarcely seen
To war! They cry aloud
'A noble death!
To make our forefathers proud!
Till our dying breath!'
Sharpen'd claw meets harden'd scale
The Thunder roars as armies collide
Living faces flush, the dying pale
And onward still they ride
'Till our dying breath!
We ride to a beautiful death!'