The moons have risen round and bright.
No clouds will dim their steady light.
The stars like eyes have pierced the night.
To see the hunters pass.
Our quarry grazes in the dale.
The breezes carry us the tale.
The scent is hot upon the trail.
And dew is on the grass.
(Hunting call) He starts [bad word] 
(Hunting call) The hunt's begun.
(Hunting call)

Across the glade, among the trees,
Our quarry panic-stricken flees.
We taste his fear upon the breeze
And howl upon his heels.
Blood-madness fills our brothers' minds
Fear-madness now our quarry blinds.
He searches for escape and finds
Our spears and sharpened steel.
(Hunting call) He stands to fight.
(Hunting call) His blood is bright.
(Hunting call)

He slashes out with hoof and horn.
His sides and neck are rent and torn.
He cannot know no stag was born
Escapes us when we ride.
The quarry's down. His life is fled.
He falls before us, stark and dead.
Tonight the cubs will sleep well-fed,
And all the pack besides.
(Hunting call) Wolfriders we.
(Hunting call) Howl victory.
(Hunting call)