There were weasels in my head.
I could see weasels on the bare ground,
Weasels in the weeds;
I could see weasels in the pheasant-coops
Doing their bloody deeds;
I could see weasels coming across the road;
I could see weasels in the lane;
And in the morning when I awoke
I had weasels on the brain.
For in spite of all my determined efforts the weasels were increasing by leaps and bounds. Not that they were getting more numerous throughout the whole country, but they were simply attracted here by the pheasants, and it was no use, as there would be more and more next season. I thought I would have to give in, beaten. But Mr. Weasel had run up against a determined fellow to kill, and I was dying hard; and while it is not my intention to preach a sermon, yet I want to tell you what happened.