The Hunted
the moors ran with blood,this winters night,
but our fox was cunning and out of sight,
the hounds found the scent and went over the hill,
not yet satisfied,they'd only had one kill.
then the master blew,tally ho tally ho,
the hounds lead,they weren't going slow,
the scent was still fresh in their nose,
our fox hid in the hedge and quietly froze.
the master called the dogs off for a while,
to let the others catch up in style,
but the dogs were again set free,
off they went on the killing spree.
poor foxy was tired and sick of the chase,
he thought shall i give up ,i'm done with this race,
a storm was brewing over yonder hill,
the grey clouds formed,with rain they did fill.
rain prayed foxy,save me from this plight,
the master called out we've lost this fight,
the fox will keep for another day,
lets get the dogs home,we're miles away.
the thunder rumbled,the lightening struck,
breath a sigh of relief,foxy got some luck,
because of the rain on this wintry night,
our fox survived for another fight.
the hounds and men are far away,
hopefully thats where they'll stay,
some people think that this is a sport,
they wouldn't think it if they got caught,.
i have won this one,but i won't gloat,
one day soon,i'll end up as a coat.
Copyright © Paulin Laurence | Year Posted 2006
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment