to the tune of the House of the Rising Sun
The Wolf Of Gubbio
There was a wolf in Gubbio who scared the people stiff,
they knew that he would take their flocks, a case of when not if.
With bristling fur and razor teeth, he wore their courage down,
the bravest men would shake with fear, when he prowled round the town.
But then there came a travelling man in robe of dusty brown,
a spark of hope lit in their breasts when Francis came to town.
‘O Francis, save our children! Go and slay that fearsome beast!
We’ll give you all our gold, and then we’ll throw a victory feast!’
The saint spoke out in sombre tone, ‘Put all your gold away!
Don’t look to me to save your skin – the Lord will save the day.’
A little man in dusty robes walked out the city gate.
A giant wolf with claws of steel in hunger lay in wait.
The wolf sprang out with eyes aflame, the saint just raised an arm.
He signed the Cross of Jesus, and the wolf lay still and calm.
‘O Brother Wolf, what have you done? Your hunger made you sin,
but if you make a pact of peace the folk will take you in.’
The saint stretched out a gentle hand, the wolf held out a paw,
and with a touch, forgiveness came, and violence reigned no more.
There was a wolf in Gubbio, a gentle friend to all,
the peace of Christ reigned from that day when Francis came to call.
