CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hear the music of the brook
Running through the trees,
Over pebbles, under stones,
Wherever it may please.
Smell the turning of the leaves,
Rich autumn in the bark,
The season sings a merry song
Its voice that of the lark.
See the water run its course,
The Forest, now awoken,
River shining in the light
And at its banks, the Bauchan.
He makes a very pleasant sight,
His long face pale and glowing
Of his hunger deep beneath
Why, none of it is showing!
His sopping lips spread wide apart
From them a pleasant song
He beckons so delightfully
Why, he could do no wrong!
But should you step onto the bank
Where earth and water meet,
He’ll pounce on you, all tooth and bone,
Another treat to eat!
