Bright Eyes

There was a little rabbit,
Just doing what rabbits do,
He’s going about his business,
As little rabbits do.

And as I watched the rabbit,
A crack rang in my head,
The rabbit flew up in the air,
And then he fell down dead.

Just one man and a rifle,
Did what he aimed to do,
The rabbit’s life had ended,
Now simply rabbit stew.

I felt my senses reeling,
How could he be so mean,
That rabbit had the brightest eyes,
That I had ever seen.

The man picked up the rabbit,
He dropped it in a sack,
And I cried, for that poor rabbit,
Who won’t be coming back.

I know I’m in the country,
And this is what they do,
But I couldn’t eat my bright eyes,
Even camouflaged as stew.

by Linda Harnett

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