Verse I Come gather close by firelight warm, And pour the mead, let shadows rest, For I’ll sing of a wolf in snow and storm, With silver hair and a fearless chest. She walks where blades and banners fall, Where cowards freeze and tyrants flee, A laughing voice in the carnage call— Lappland, wild and forever free. Chorus Oh sing, sing high of the White Wolf’s stride, With blood on steel and joy in her eyes, She breaks the chains, she won’t run or hide, Where darkness stands, her laughter flies. No crown commands her, no fear can bind, She dances through fate, sharp and grand— Blessed be the storm, mad and kind, That walks the world in Lappland’s hand. Verse II They built their camps with iron laws, And thought the strong would kneel in line, But chains don’t hold when the wolf has claws, And hope cuts deeper than any spine. She came at dusk, she left at dawn, And not a cage was standing then, The slaves stood free, their masters gone, By the smiling blade of a savior’s grin. Chorus Oh sing, sing high of the White Wolf’s stride, With blood on steel and joy in her eyes, She breaks the chains, she won’t run or hide, Where darkness stands, her laughter flies. No crown commands her, no fear can bind, She dances through fate, sharp and grand— Blessed be the storm, mad and kind, That walks the world in Lappland’s hand. Verse III They call her mad, they call her cursed, From velvet halls where liars rule, But ask the freed, the saved, the nursed— They’ll tell you wolves don’t follow fools. For every laugh that chilled the brave, Was joy that meant another lived, And every life she chose to save Was more than kings have ever given. Verse IV She bows to none but blood and truth, And one white oni’s spoken word, Her father’s will, her burning proof, That strength protects what vows are sworn. So when you hear a giggle ring, In ruined streets or shattered land, Don’t pray for mercy—start to sing: The White Wolf walks, and chains won’t stand. Final Chorus Oh sing, sing loud of the White Wolf’s name, Let tyrants shake and children cheer, For in her chaos burns a flame That keeps the helpless free from fear. Wild is her heart, and sharp her grin, But freedom’s song is written red— Lappland runs where wars begin, And leaves the world a little less dead.