A pair of bright eyes
Flashed in a fox face
And a man was consumed
By the thrill of the chase
He donned a red blazer
And wound up his horn
And mounted his horse
In the chill winter dawn
There were trumpets, halloos
The grass crackled with frost
She dashed under a brake
And he feared she was lost
The hounds sniffed and slobbered
He quickened the pace
Pursuing her scent for
The thrill of the chase
*
Here she lies in the ditch
And her guts are all spilled
But now he is flinching
From what he has killed
No tenderness now
No hand stroking her face
The mystique all lost
With the thrill of the chase.
alicemoonrise 