Through green we run,
Whisked with flame,
Still they fired, again,again.
Off we ran,
Using the tricks,
Wading through river,
Trrailing through ditch.
Covering scent
Of vixen friend,
Starting to stray
From old trend.
"Quiet" I begged her,
Holding her still,
"Hide under here,
near this young hill."
The dogs they came,
Horses too,
And worst of all,
Men, of them two.
The men they searched,
The men they hunted,
The men they cried in vain.
For I had hidden the green-eyed vixen
Until we met again.
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