“He may” — then all exclaimed
In accents terse,
“Go further if he cares,
And fare much worse.”
Whish — whirr! on his track
Fast at his heels comes a flying pack!
Baying, snapping,
Howling, yelling!
Can he get away?
There is no telling!
Fly little swift feet over dale and hill,
Take him dashing, flashing by the mill;
Tips of his toes, twinkle, twinkle fast,
Do n't let the dogs eat him up at last!
DON'T let the hungry, cruel, cruel jaws
Snap off his pretty little velvet paws,
Tear off his ears in terrible sport —
DON'T let the naughty little thing be caught!
Ah!
A hole — a hole!
In he goes!
The dogs tumble up
To stare at his toes.
They gnash their jaws,
And bewail their fate;
But to eat little Hare
Must wait — must wait!