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Pretty White Wolf by AI Composer

SongGPT
Pretty White Wolf by AI Composer - Poetry And Folklore music cover art

Pretty White Wolf

Poetry And Folklore

0:004:43
Lyrics
Description
The lone white wolf, who graced us with her presence, Her beauty was incomparable,
Her intelligence beyond measure, Pretty was her name.
She came and for a while she stayed, She left us way too soon,
She lingers with us now, and over the moon.
By the village heart, the old ones say, A silver print on the path of clay.
Fur like moonlight, soft as prayer, She stepped through frost and winter air.
Low bell tolls where the crossroads meet, Children hush their running feet.
Elder hands, a quiet nod, The storyteller lifts a sod.
Pretty, white as a prayer at dawn, Pretty, soft as the hush of fawn,
She walked the old paths we called her near.
Pretty, who eased our deepest, She learned the secrets of stream and stone,
Knew the names of the stars alone.
By the elder's song, by the heart's warm light, She listened through the brittle night.
Moonlight melted on her coat of snow, A low bell answered steady and slow.
The people watched with breath drawn tight, As wisdom moved in a quiet white.
Pretty, white as the dawn's first flame, Pretty, we whispered softly her name.
She came and stayed for a while to teach, Left footprints only memory can reach.
Pretty, who braided silence in two.
Pretty, beneath our watching moon.
O heart, the tale the elders keep, O pass it through the long night deep.
By hearth and hand, by tail and bone, Pretty walks the world alone.
Repeat the line the elders cried, The wolf that taught us how to fly.
A bell, a breath, a quiet rune, Her shadow lingers by the moon.
Pretty, white as the ancient rune, Pretty, her echo fills the room.
She left too soon, yet in our bones she stays.
Pretty, our guide through winter days, Now we tend the light, she lives.
And carry on the song of it.
At dusk the children place a bowl, For passing pause, a balm for soul.
We tell of clever eyes and mind, Of tender ways her kind inclined.
Old women hum, young men keep time, The bell tolls soft, an old low chime.
Her memory warms the coldest night, Her footprints silvered in the light.
Pretty, white as the last bright star, Pretty, she travels near and far.
She came, she stayed, and then she passed.
The leaves a path, the hearts hold fast.
Pretty, whose wisdom will remain.
A living hush, a sweet refrain.
So gather close by the embered ring, Let the storyteller softly sing.
Her fur in moonlight, bell toll low, Her mind a gift we still bestow.
Pretty lingers over the moon, a beloved face.
In every rune we light a lamp, we keep the flame.
Pretty, forever in our name.
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