A top my steed watching the hounds work the ground, they sing their songs as they run through the brush.
Their query a wile ole fox...playing his sly little game...slipping through the underbrush playing tag with the young and inexperienced pups..
Searching high and low until they finally jump the fox, the hounds strike trail and the chase is on!
The sound of the baying pericing the cool mountain air.
Once the fox goes to ground, in a flash the Jack Russlle follows him down!
The fix is in the fox is done he resigns his hide to the hunters gun!
A Christopher L. Lisenbee poem