Courtesy My Woof
When you crept inside the hill
The whistlepigs began to squeal,
A terrier to hunt and kill
By courage and by whisker-feel
Darkness in those tunnels, dens
And woodchucks have such chisel jaws
They will when cornered slash, defend
Their kits, creep slowly on those paws
Sightless scent, by feel, by sound
You felt the darkness for your prey,
Be one with us, you little one
I gave a thought to you today
We too are hunters in the night
Who search for something not by sight,
Dangerous perhaps to find
And how these tunnels turn and wind