Pangs of passion,
Flood through your fangs,
Heavy your head now hangs.

Banish these thoughts!
As you BANG-- your head--
Again--
Again!
Against the wall.

But hunger won't fade,
Nor the scent of the hen,
It lingers, it clings,
You can't help but recall,
A whisper, a wing,
Her breath, her call.

The Dog bared its fangs in vain,
A desperate try to drive away,
The beleaguering Lamb that trailed behind,
Seeking warmth within its light.

The Sheep sang a gentle tune,
In bleats that sought to welcome in,
The distant Pup that mourned alone,
Born of tempests, weighed by woe.

The Wolf, it hungered, while you stayed warm,
Bound to its pack, shaped by the storm,
Through frost and through famine,
The Wolf, it did suffer, while The Dog lay secure.

But when disaster did strike, stealing Dog's home,
She was left to the frost, forsaken, alone,
She wandered as prey, and trembled in fear,
Until one day, she saw naught but a pack,
Warm, safe numbers, a home-- one she lacked,
And so she found herself The Wolf,
Mercy, she asked, May I join your pack?

The Wolf, it snarled, when she begged for stay,
Herald The Dog who yearns for warmth!
When she had comfort when we had naught!
The Dog bowed her head, but she could not,
Explain to The Wolf what it owed her not.

The Dog, she wandered, searching for fire,
But the world was not warm as her home had once been.
So she carved her own pack,
Starved through the winter,
Charged into battle, unraveled by the years,
And so came to be, The Dog was assured,
That in her place, The Wolf endured.