Author: Mridul Jain, Class VII B
He hops and jumps from tree to tree,
In his pads of furry white,
And from his great, high place he can see
The stars which fill the night.
At dawn, he greets the sunrise true
And dances free in fire trails,
He wants to lie in fields of grass and dew
But instead gets pierced with iron nails.
In bushes, and shrubs he carefully makes
An escape from those savage hounds,
He hides in ferns and brakes
But instead gets smashed in bullet rounds.
The tribal chief, he sits back in the chair
Takes his time with the cigar,
He pauses to think through this affair
And catches that bunny from afar.
When midnight comes, the shepherd’s dogs
Hunt and track him to his den,
They fright and shout and laugh these hogs
For a piece of meat, from their grinning men.
When he stays, they decide to wait on his track
Headman sets the strongest one loose,
His scrawny nose turned dark black
He bravely leaps up the noose.
Next dawn, he silently hears
The cries and shouts of his dears,
This morning, he was lonely at his hole
Dancing from pole to pole.
