What a sight,
what a sight,
in the darkness,
where out shone the light,
from the black of night,
and the sound of footsteps they carried through the air,
as a man wearing a coat and a hat trod across the Earth all muddy and wet,
and the torch pierced the blackness,
as he struggled through the wind,
whistling with all his might,
and cursing loudly at the night,
the night so malevolent and out to pick a fight,
out to knock him off his feet with all its might,
with all its might,
and with a seemingly bitter delight,
as the rain was as ice,
and as seemingly as cold,
as the temperatures at the North Pole,
oh, how it chilled his soul,
oh, how it chilled his soul,
as he headed off over stile and gate,
with his gun,
and his rabbits over his shoulder,
heading for rabbit stew and all its delights,
in the blackest most foulest of nights,
as he struggled to keep warm,
and the wind tried to knock him off his feet,
with all its might,
in the bitter bitter pitch black icy malevolent night,
what a sight,
what a sight.