WENDIGO As sung by Dwain Story (Slightly different from Jim Post's version)
My home's way up to the north, they say, Where the hunter may die all alone. Red men have told of a legend so old Of the death whose sound is a moan.
CHORUS: I fly where the forest meets the sky. I race the northern winds where I go. My feet are on fire as I run and I cry. My name is Wendigo.
Where I walk are the prints of my feet. They burn through the ice and the snow, And the hunter who sees looks above in the trees. It's the mark of the Wendigo. CHORUS
White lakes and trees in the cold moonlight, A sound so lonesome and low, Is it the wind or a cry in the night? Wendigo, Wendigo. CHORUS