In the timbers of Benario,
the wolves are running round.
The winter was so hot and cold,
froze ten feet beneath the ground.
I beg of you, don't murder me.
It was a bottle of red whiskey
I said my prayers and went to bed
That's the last they saw of me
I beg of you, don't murder me
When I awoke, I thought I awoke
Six hundred pounds of sin
Was grinning at my window
All I said was, come on in
The wolf came in, I got my cards
I cut my deck to the queen of spades
But the cards were all the same
I beg of you, don't murder me
In the backwash of an aerial,
A dying wolf collects his dew
while a boy sings round the fire
I beg of you, don't murder me
I beg of you, don't murder me
No, no, no, don't murder me