Running, panting, barely breathing,
Sprinting up the lonely trail.
Wond'ring if, that by its fleeing,
It succeeds, or will it fail?
Never falt'ring, never wav'ring,
Quick the hunted deer does sail
O'er the logs like darkness fleeting
Through the meadow and the vale.

Men with horses chase with vigour,
Joyful cries ring through the air.
Chances for a feast loom bigger
As the beast shows signs of wear.
Wives, do not be at your leisure,
Victuals grand, you must prepare.
Providence may well deliver
Venison for all to share.

Running, panting, barely breathing,
Sprinting up the lonely trail,
Wond'ring if, that by its fleeing,
It succeeds, or will it fail?

Hiding now, with muscles taut,
Misted, shadowed, is its figure,
Striving to remain uncaught.
Sudden sounds turn him a'quiver
But t'was not what he had thought.
T'was a boy, who voiced a nicker,
Seeking that which hunters sought,
Bringing friendship to consider.

Hunting, searching, ever missing,
Looking for, but finding naught.
Glancing 'round, the men are leaving.
Scour the place and they'd have caught
Boy and deer both calmly peering,
Laughter in their eyes and thought.