Out into the moonlight

gun in hand, dog in tow

lamp beam sweeps the hillside

see the lurcher go!

The hare is running blindly

zigzagging as it goes

uphill it runs faster 

and this the long-dog knows.

Striding, leaping gaining

the lurcher bounds ahead

the Poacher's grin is savage

the hare will soon be dead.

Down hill the dog has turned him

the hare's race is almost done

the snarling and the snapping

drive him to the gun.

A spurt of flame, an explosion

a scream across the night

and the Poacher's madly cursing

as he beholds the bloody sight.

The hare is blithely racing

on and on across the wold

his hound 'tis lies a-dying

a dog worth more than gold.