Along came a pup,
Tiny and small,
Trying to live,
Among the tall.
On a night of emptiness,
A night of darkness,
He howled his first wolfsong.

He ran through the grass,
Chasing his prey.
He was growing weary;
He'd been running all day.
But then his chance came,
And the prey was his to claim.
He howled a triumphant wolfsong.

He stood alone,
On the hill that was his.
Even in the depth of the night,
He knew that she would give him bliss.
She looked at him,
Then as if he were singing a hymn,
For his mate, he howled his wolfsong.

In the middle of the day,
All the others were hunting.
He wanted to go with them,
But he sat still, watching.
As his joy bubbled up,
He then, for his pups,
Howled his prideful wolfsong.

After many years, he was growing old,
And he knew soon he would leave.
His aching joints creaked,
And running was his pet peeve.
But before he passed on,
He stepped up and sang his song.
He howled his final wolfsong.