Classic Poem

On moony nights the dogs bark shrill
Down the valley and up the hill.

There's one is angry to behold
The moon so unafraid and cold,
That makes the earth as bright as day,
But yet unhappy, dead, and grey.

Another in his strawy lair
Says: ‘Who's a-howling over there?
By heavens I will stop him soon
From interfering with the moon.’

So back he barks, with throat upthrown:
‘You leave our moon, our moon alone.’
And other distant dogs respond
Beyond the fields, beyond, beyond.