The night was cold and dreary

as the owl guards the night

the gabble ratchet high above

the timing is right

The rain comes down harder

a silhouetted figure on the run

dogs are in pursuit

there are many with a gun

The figure finds a ravine

a place to hide

pursuers go around it

increasing the chance to survive

The clouds clear

allow the moon to shine

an owl becomes a snitch

crossing a line

The pursuers turn

come back toward the ravine

the figure turns around

lets out a howling scream

The pursuit is over

guns begin to fire

blood seeps everywhere

the situation is dire

The battle is over

the figure is dead

the fire is hot

its coals brick red

The pursuers settle down

for the long awaited meal

the figure is cooked

the wild sweet taste is real