The Least of My Kind

                Words and music by Catherine Faber


Covered in dirt and mud, aching and spitting blood,
Cursing, you stir to rise and groan.
Muffled in yet to come mutters a battle drum;
Werewolves don't usually walk alone.

Chorus (after every verse):

     Think on the battle cost
     This time the wolf has lost,
     Beaten and broken and blind.
     Better beware, my lord,
     Better prepare, my lord.
     I was the least of my kind.

Prying my switchblade cold out of my fingers' hold,
Pause to take stock, reflect, and rue;
Look on the damage done here by a single one;
What do you think a full pack will do?

Careless I came by chance, joining in battle's dance,
Slain in a fight I could not win.
Far off, a wolf pack hears; heads turn, with pricking ears;
Thought you, my lords, that I had no kin?


Words and music copyright (c) 1994 by Catherine Faber

On UNDER THE GRIPPING BEAST CD, copyright (c) 1997 by Catherine
Faber and Arlene Hills