• As the wind blows, his fur rustles,
    Left there in the snow, after the hustle,
    He flew by, chasing that deer
    Boy, oh boy, was he ever near,
    Chasing that deer for a wonderful feast,
    But those hunters just think of him as a savage beast,
    And that man behind the tree,
    Reloads his gun so he knows he's ready,
    The wolf has reached, the hunter has shot.
    Now the wolf is left there to rot.