March of the Hounds (Part II)

It's the march of the hounds
When will it end?
What is lost shall surely be found
But when will it end?

Out to the fields we go,
The place we find sorrow
Sown where the foot treads,
Beaten and battered threads
The hounds fear no thing,
But fear is what they bring
So run my darling run,
Into the battle we're flung

Follow silently pawed trail,
To the coffin's last nail
Look past the final hour,
Before the hounds devour
Hope of a brighter day,
Yet stay firm, don't sway
So run my darling run,
With steady hand and loaded gun

By Pete Scopes