WHEN I WAS JUST A RABBIT
ALONG A DUSTY ROAD,
I CHOSE TO HOP IN RABBIT GLEE
AND OUTRUN THE BAYING DOG, FOR THE LIFE OF ME.
THE BEAGLE DOG WITH LONGISH EARS
AND TEETH SILVERY WHITE,
SEEMED COULD TEAR ME MOST IN TWO
IN ONE BIG SINGLE BITE, AND THAT WOULD NEVER DO.
BUT THE CLOVER IS SO FRESH
AND TENDER, MOIST AND SWEET,
WHERE THE FOREST RUNS TO THE FIELD'S END
AND THE WATER POND, WHERE THEY DID MEET, AND BLEND.
SO ALONG THE DUSTY ROAD I HOPPED
AND IGNORED THE BAYING HOUND,
AND CHOSE TO EAT WHERE THE CLOVER WAS SWEET
AND THE WATER RIPPLED ALL ROUND, AT MY RABBIT FEET.
WHILE DEEP BENEATH MY FURRY WARM SKIN
MY HEART WOULD POUND AND RACE WITHIN,
AS I CHALLENGED THAT HOUND FOR THE CLOVER I COULD NOT RESIST.
IN WATCHFUL, MUNCHFUL RABBIT GLEE, I CHOSE AND ATE HEARTILY,
THOSE FOUR-LEAF CLOVERS I SAVED, HELD IN MY RABBIT FIST, I WAS FREE.
I AM NOT SO WEAK YOU SEE,
THAT THE CLOVER KEEPS CALLING ME,
BUT PLEASE CONSIDER THE SUPERB WEAKNESS OF THE HOUND.
WITH EYES FILLED WITH LUST FOR BLOODY MEAT
HE WARNS ME LONG BEFORE HE REACHES ME,
FOR HIS HOWL MEANS MORE TO HIM
THAN THIS WARM TASTEFUL MORSEL THAT HE, ENVISIONS BENEATH MY SKIN.
SO OVER AND OVER AGAIN I GO
WHERE THE FOREST AND FIELD AND WATER KNOW,
AND THE CLOVER STANDS OUT ROW ON ROW
OVER THE GRAVE OF THE NOW SILENT HOUND.
NOW I TEACH MY RABBIT SON
AS THROUGH THE FIELDS WE EAT AND RUN.
WHILE SOMEWHERE FAR OFF I HEAR A FAMILIAR SOUND.
FOR A MOMENT TEARS COME TO MY RABBIT EYES,
AND MY SON SHOWS NO SURPRISE,
FOR THE DEAD BEAGLE'S SON IS NOW THE BAYING HOUND.
NOW MY HAIR IS COARSE AND GREY
AND MY RABBIT SIGHT HAS SLIPPED AWAY,
AND THE CLOVER HAS SOMEHOW LOST ITS TASTE TO ME.
SO I SEEK THE SPOT WHERE THE THREE DID BLEND,
THE FOREST, THE POND, AND THE FIELD'S END,
AND OVER THERE I SEE MY FRIEND --
THE BAYING HOUND FROM WHOM AGAIN
I ONCE MORE FLEE, FOR THE LIFE OF ME.
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