Whither I go.
Then the Lynx looked at the trembling Hare, and began to sing,
Little white one, tell me why
Like to leather, thin and dry,
Are your pretty ears?
Tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! tshwee! cried the Hare, and she ran back to her grandmother, and repeated the words. “Go Nosis, and tell him your uncles fixed them so, when they came from the South.” So the Hare ran back and sang,
From the south my uncles came,
And they fixed my ears the same,—
Fixed my slender ears.
and then the Hare laid her pink ears upon her shoulders, and was about to go on, but the Lynx began to sing again,—