Wolves at the Door

I built my cabin from logs of new spruce. At the foot of 

the mountain and the edge of the wood.  Not too far 

from a gurgling brook. I can look at it shine in the light of 

the moon.  Perched on top of the richest land I can find. 

The year is eighteen and thirty-nine. 

I came from Ohio across three states, but here in

Missouri my soul snagged its thread. It’s the Adirondike 

mountains I can’t get across. The summer gets hot but 

the winter comes quick. Build a strong warm cabin 

before the snow comes thick. 

It was the last of October when I first heard her voice. 

Like the peal of a trumpet from the top of the hill. 

I heard his reply from miles away and it gave my spine a 

chill. The she-wolf came down to give me a call.  About 

my cabin she paced round and round.

I stood in my cabin with my musket in hand and heard 

her footfalls on the ground outside. I could hear her 

snarl. I could hear her breath, but else I could not 

perceive.  “Wolf,” I said, “I’ve got no hospitality for you. 

I’ll give you nothing but a ball of my lead.”

Cause there were wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Well I stuck my musket through the slot and I shot blind. 

Through the whole valley was heard the report. But when 

it echoed back her voice came through.  “In a fortnight’s 

time I’ll win you true. In these hills with me you’ll run and 

remember this place no more.”

Cause there were wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Those days they came and weeks they went, and God 

can tell how they were spent.  In trepidation and in infirm 

mind the days grew short and cold.  On the fourteenth 

night the sun went down and a carpet of snow lay 

packed on the ground. 

And there were wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Wolves. Wolves at the door.

The moon was high when she led them down. I could 

see it shining in her eyes. At her full stride she came 

down the slope. She lead a pack of twenty. They made a 

circle around my cabin and they came a-caroling. A choir 

in full regalia.

And there were wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Wolves. Wolves at the door. 

They sang me a song and they sang it well. To hear them 

howl it thrilled my soul and to see their jaws a snappin’.  I 

lost my mind in fear and awe. Some fur cropped out all 

over my arms and when I reached behind, the tail I found 

was my own and I was astounded.

And there were wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Wolves. Wolves at the door.

And when their song had come to an end it raised 

the hair on the back of my neck and my skin began to crawl. 

The she-wolf said, “Boy, did you rightly doubt me? We 

came here to make you our own and we’re not going to 

leave without thee.”

And there were wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Wolves. Wolves at the door. 

There comes a time when each must say good-bye to 

his domestic comforts. The soul must run across those 

mountains under the light of the moon. It must raise its 

voice like never before and quit its habitation. I can never 

forget that She-wolf or the night she freed me. 

And there were wolves. Wolves at the door. 

Wolves. Wolves at the door.