Tough thick and hefty
On the hill top, down the hillside
Dreadful feet to the dust and sticky mud
The butterfly loves to perch.
Stout sturdy and eager
It leaves a print on the soil, oh what a pace!
Not even the fastest wild beast can escape
Nor the slowest and astute
But they all testify only at the hindsight.
Hiss to the snake, heehaw to the donkey
It is the heirloom to the typical huntsman
Virile enough to procreate the heyday
Chink in Achilles armor
Flaw in opposing gravity
But not frightened by the hot sun-scorched soil
Nor the burning forest while chasing after the eletu the rabbit
Heartbreaking, the daydreaming ankle never gets the opportunity to stroke it.