The hare the hounds and the willow trees
And the hare ran out across the hill, the hounds ran fast and true,
but the hare could make a quicker turn than a baying pack could do
she turned and twisted over land, where the hounds could only try
but if she made just one mistake, then she would surely die
she turned again at the woodlands edge, to a place that well she knew
under a gap in the boundary fence, where the hounds could not pass through
down the bank and into the stream, with a pounding heart she raced
while the yapping pack ran back and forth, behind the fence they paced
precious seconds she had gained, and now she used them well
as she turned again to the willow woods and away from the hounds of hell
first one hound leapt the fence, then the rowdy pack were over
they tumbled and rolled where brambles lurked among the grass and clover
they traced the scent to the waters edge as the hare had known they could
when she ran downstream with the babbling brook then into the willow wood
and now she could rest in the willow trees away from the bickering hounds
and the willow trees kept her secret well, with a melee of woodland sounds
