The Least of My Kind

from by Michael Kelly

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A roleplaying-derived song of Cat's that I chanced to
learn a number of years ago, little suspecting that it would
grow to be adopted as a personal anthem by several groups
of friends across Canada and the US.


Covered in dirt and mud, aching and spitting blood,
Cursing, you stir to rise and groan
Muffled in yet-to-come, mutters a battle drum
Wolves don't usually walk alone

Think on the battle-cost; this time, the wolf has lost
Beaten and broken and blind
Better beware, my lord; better prepare, my lord;
I was the least of my kind

Prying my switchblade cold out of my fingers' hold
Pause to take stock, reflect, and rue
Look on the damage done here by a single one
What do you think the full pack will do?


Careless, I came by chance, joining in battle's dance
Slain in a fight I could not win
Far off, a wolf pack hears; heads turn, with pricking ears
Thought you, my lord, that I had no kin?



from Fields of the North, released February 1, 2003
Guitar, Vocals, Bodhran - Michael Kelly
Lyrics, Melody - Catherine Faber, used with permission



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Michael Kelly Vancouver, British Columbia

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