The shepherd on his journey heard when nigh <br />His dog among the bushes barking high; <br />The ploughman ran and gave a hearty shout, <br />He found a weary fox and beat him out. <br />The ploughman laughed and would have ploughed him in <br />But the old shepherd took him for the skin. <br />He lay upon the furrow stretched for dead, <br />The old dog lay and licked the wounds that bled, <br />The ploughman beat him till his ribs would crack, <br />And then the shepherd slung him at his back; <br />And when he rested, to his dog's surprise, <br />The old fox started from his dead disguise; <br />And while the dog lay panting in the sedge <br />He up and snapt and bolted through the hedge. <br /> <br />He scampered to the bushes far away; <br />The shepherd called the ploughman to the fray; <br />The ploughman wished he had a gun to shoot. <br />The old dog barked and followed the pursuit. <br />The shepherd threw his hook and tottered past; <br />The ploughman ran but none could go so fast; <br />The woodman threw his faggot from the way <br />And ceased to chop and wondered at the fray. <br />But when he saw the dog and heard the cry <br />He threw his hatchet--but the fox was bye. <br />The shepherd broke his hook and lost the skin; <br />He found a badger hole and bolted in. <br />They tried to dig, but, safe from danger's way, <br />He lived to chase the hounds another day.<br /><br />John Clare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fox-4/
