The hunt was on, and I ran fast as I could
ahead of the mad dogs and Englishmen;
the sound of horns and baying hounds
is as frightening to me now as back then.
My coat of red was soaked wet with sweat
and the fear must have shown in my eyes,
as straight on I dashed, through underbrush;
close behind me the hounds' unearthly cries!
They loved the chase, this English race,
as they spurred their gallant horses on,
following the hounds tracking my scent,
'til they treed me, life energy almost gone.
Slipping through a fence as my last defense
and then across a swollen river I swam,
darting into the safety of the dark forest
and If this won't save me, nothing can!
Back on the shore the mad dogs stopped,
sniffing the air for the scent they had lost;
and the Englishmen rode up behind them,
knowing well the price my escape had cost.
Nature is such a beautiful thing to see
and a red fox is part of nature's ken,
not to be hunted for sport as fair game
by those mad dogs and Englishmen.
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