The Vixen’s Regret

The Vixen’s Regret

written by: James Walmsley

 

I’m not that wylie and I’m not that sly,
just another mother who tries to get by.
I have a family like most other things,
I worry what everyday brings.

I live deep in the woods, it’s safer there,
mostly my days pass without a care.
I’m raising my cubs, I now have three,
my den is nearby a big old Ash tree.

On moonlight night I set off to roam,
not for fun, to feed my cubs at home.
I cross the tracks, streams and roads,
sometimes too close to human abodes.

Keeping my body low to the ground,
I pass by without making a sound,
I try to avoid all contact with humans,
especially the horse mounted demons.

In wild we hunt and have to kill,
the horse mounted demons kill to thrill.
They whip their horses and kick their dogs,
all dressed up in their bright red togs.

I hunt because I have to catch my prey,
for my cubs to eat and live another day.
We are wild animals and we run free,
there is nothing else that we can be.

If the terriers catch me then I am dead,
so it is down the stream I gently tread.
Trying to avoid the baying mongrel pack,
and the red clad demons on horseback.

Out of the woods come a human mob,
here to help and do a very different job.
These are Sabs here to confuse the pack,
laying a false scent out of their knapsack.

Now I’m feeding my cubs in our den,
listening to the song of a noisy Wren.
The baying dogs and demons are gone,
the rest of the day, worries I have none.

I’m not that wylie and I’m not that sly,
I’m just another animal trying not to cry.
I’m hunted and hated, I don’t know why,
is it they enjoy to watch my babies die.