Sleek head, proud against the night.
Her coat the colour of moonlight.
Her eyes golden, sharp and bright.
The legend, Nahani.

Her lonely, plaintive, wolven cry
echoed 'cross the snow-filled sky
whilst trappers, in their slumber lie
until the break of day.

The she-wolf bounded o'er rock and track
laying scent to lead her pack
towards the northern trapper-shack,
no trappers there till May.

But, before she reached the edge of wood
she smelled the scent of dying blood,
then suddenly she understood.
Her pack began to bay

The shack gave out a candle-glow
Nahani's fear began to grow,
wolf-tracks showed up in the snow
and two men were killed that day.

As months went by more people died
the killings were intensified
"The silver-white's to blame!" they cried
The hunt was under way

The price upon her head was high
enough to make a trapper sigh
Her life's in danger, she must die
A killer wolf they say

The people hunted far and near
their purpose driven by fear.
Another man was killed, I hear,
and Nahani? far away

A bush-man saw her to the west
her pack on sloping rock-face rest
"To hunt another wolf is best,
she wasn't there that day......"

A trap is set to catch its prey,
a massive, ugly, pale grey.
The she-wolf's free to go her way.
The legend, Nahani.