Vixen

The distant cry of the hounds
The red coat hunter draws near
The Vixen runs with her fear.

Her heart beats faster than, the hooves or her pursuer
The horn sounds, with the wailing on the hounds.

Bracken row black ditch water
Running running from the slaughter
In these fields of freedom
There is no place to go, her heart starts to grow slow.

The hot breath of the hound is upon her neck
They will bring her down to her final depth.

And now her eyes start to fail
Ripped bleeding and devoured,
Torn and screaming, you the hunter coward.

So home she never comes
Starve starve her little ones
Her bones are left to the land
Vixen......her last stand.