There's a Hare In The Wine Cup, moved in just yesterday,
digging for freedom, sweet incarceration,
vaguely bewildered in furry brown innocence.
Tunneled and slithered under the fence.
Let's hope the mad Patterdale Terriers* sleeping;
Too fat, too lazy to go for the killing.
This Hare without Spectacles doesn't do dinner.
Candlelit fast food for saint or for sinner.
There's a Hare In The Wine Cup...
Hare In The Wine Cup... suitablely fitting...
Hare In The Wine Cup... silently sitting...
Wise for a sage, a tearaway* leverite**,
aspires to be part of the family of furniture.
Lost as (?) (?) we have to get over it.
Safe in the garden if for only a minute.
There's a Hare In The WineCup..