The Fight In The Forest (1957)

The lords of the forest are fighting,
The clash rings loud and clear,
The rest of the forest is silent,
For this is a fight of the deer.

Amidst grinding antlers and flying turf,
The two stags heave and sway,
Each clinging to the same faint hope.
That the other will give way.

The old buck fights to keep his herd,
But his strength is ebbing fast,
He knows that if he slackens now
His honour will not last.

The dread of death in his weary mind,
He lunges with all his might;
His antlers gash the other's flank
Who turns and runs in fright.

The victor paws the blood-stained soil
And licks his bleeding side,
Then raising his muzzle to the air,
He gives a victor's scream of pride.

M. J. SPAIN, IC