Robert Hunter

In the timbers of Fennario the wolves are running round

The winter was so hard and cold, froze ten feet 'neath the ground
Don't murder me, I beg of you don't murder me

Please don't murder me
I sat down to supper, 'twas a bottle of red whiskey

I said my prayers and went to bed, that's the last they saw of me
When I awoke, the dire wolf, six hundred pounds of sin

Was grinning at my window, all I said was "Come on in"
The wolf came in, I got my cards, we sat down for a game

I cut my deck to the queen of spades but the cards were all the same
In the back-wash of Fennario, the black and bloody mire

The dire wolf collects his due while the boys sing round the fire