The mist curls around his feet,
As over the fence he goes,
To make his big leap,
Where on the other side there are no more woes,

The rhythm of his feet,
Follows the sound of hounds not so far away,
Its like a musical beat,
And encourages him not to stay,

The sun is still just a crest,
And the early morning is crisp,
But a hot day it will be at its best,
And then again it will be just a wisp,

But he likes the cool morning air,
As his strides show an even pace,
They are long and very fair,
As he continues the long chase,

By now his breath is coming in haste,
And the hounds have not found their score,
The morning has all been one big waste,
And the afternoon will be a bore,

But as the shadowy darkness disappears,
And his breathing starts to measure,
He sees upon the hill a tiny pair of ears,
And snorts to show his extreme pleasure,

He stomps his foot and points his head,
As the fox laughs at him,
His rider refuses to let him go and turns him home instead,
So now his mood is looking kind of dim.

As he makes his way back,
But he knows that next time he will win,
While out again for another morning hack,
Just the thought makes him grin.

 
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