Run! Little red fox!
Run from your safe, warm den.
Where you sleep and where you eat,
Where you may lay and the hound may not reach you.

Run! Little red fox!
To the wild, open prairie.
Run to where the wind blows the grass flat and

Rattles the wild poppy on its stem,
Where the field mouse burrows deep beneath the ground and
The swallow sings his sad song,
Where you have space to run and the hound may not catch you.

Run! Little red fox!
To the gently gurgling stream.
Run where the cat-tails grow tall and
The willows whisper in the wind,
Where the fish jump and ruffle the pond weed,
Where you may swim and the hound may not follow.

Run! Little red fox!
To the tall, formidable mountain,
Run to where the rock’s harsh face will forever
Survey the world in silence,
Where the moss and stone grass cling tightly,
Where the mountain goat bonds barely out of reach
of the cougar’s mighty jaws,
Where you may climb and the hound may not pursue.

Run! Little red fox!
To the lush, green forest,
Run to where the ferns grow thick,
Where the canopy casts an eerie light on the floor,
Where the deer steps lightly so as not to alert the hunter,
Where you may hide and the hound may not find you.

But no! Little red fox!
Do not run and rob the coop!
Do not run where the chicken pecks behind the fence,
Do not run to where the farmer and his hounds sit waiting,
Where the gun brings swift death,
Where you are unsafe and the hound may kill you.
Run Back! Little red fox!
To where you are safe and life is easy.
Run home! To the prairie, stream, mountain and forest,
Run back to your den, little red fox and be quick,
The hound is on you tail!

Run! Little red fox!
Run before the harsh claws of Death may claim you,
Before the hound may finish you.
Run to where life will forever prosper,
Where nature’s untamed beauty is all around you,
Run! And the hound can never best you!

Run! Little red fox!
You are almost safe now; your den is in sight.
Run where the excitement of life may not upend you,
Where the world’s adventure may not hinder you,
Where the hound may only smell your stale sent on the breeze.

Sleep! Little red fox!
You are safe now for the hound has passed on.
Here, where the stars twinkle pleasantly,
Where the world may be observed from the security of your den,
Here, where the hound may not touch you.