The crescent moon casts little light,
Our presence to betray.
Swift, feral shadows in the night,
Gone well before the day
Our teeth are sharp, our claws are cruel,
Our allies, Goblins fell.
The darkend forests we should rule,
From mountian walls to dell.
Men fell our trees and plow our lands.
Our hunting grounds grow small.
Now we run with goblin bands,
To take or kill them all
We need not fear the swords of men,
They’re marching off to wars.
We’ll find the ones they’ve left behind, then
Break down the shuttered doors.
Our song shall run before our paws,
The stars shine on our fight.
Our cubs will praise our mighty cause,
Of blood shed in the night.