Here’s to a plant called cockle burr
Who’s never been in verse
He’s more than master when in fur
For nothing could be worse

The thorns and thistle that appear
Which seem so out of place
To persecuted hares or deer
Who for life have to race

Cause them to bless the Lord of all
Who built the weedy patch
He hears the sparrows when they fall
And made them hard to catch

So thistles or a cacti spine
Though rugged in contour
Has stopped a chase full many a time
Or made a long detour

And birdies there may build a nest
Away from prowling cats
There she has peace and gets a rest
Secure from endless spats

Though Devils have no sympathy
The thistle fills a need
God over rules antipathy
So pooch hounds may take heed

Thus if a dog or wolf chase her
Sir hare will thumb or whistle
Or jump among the cockle burr
Or nestle in a thistle.

Note at end: Bunnie lies in dreaming by the old tree stump
Half asleep and snoozing by his old oak tree
Dreaming of the moonlight and his friends that jump
And he loves his sweetheart in the third degree