Song Of The Last Wolf Poem by Tim Johnson

Harvest moon tonight is shining
Down upon a changing land
And it seems the earth is dying
‘Neath a pale and callous hand

In the hills a sound is rising
Wispy smoke-like reverie
It’s as if the ground is crying
For some distant memory

Eye ee eye ee eye ee eye
Eye ee eye ee eye ee eye

In the snow that’s gently falling
On a visage old and gray
Lifted head is softly calling
To the moon, as if to say:

“Mother, time is swiftly moving,
As the night bequeaths the day.
Hear this prayer, this song of mourning
Ere we too have passed away.”

Eye ee eye ee eye ee eye
Eye ee eye ee eye ee eye

Winter moon tonight is shining
Down upon a changing land
And it seems the earth is dying
‘Neath a pale and callous hand

In the hills the voice of silence
Wispy smoke-like reverie
It’s as if the sound of crying
Is a distant memory

Eye ee eye ee eye ee eye
Eye ee eye ee eye ee eye