And we mostly blaze at that;
But we hear him wheezing there at nights,
Patrolling through the dark,
With his signals—hoots and chirrups—
Like an early morning lark.
We’ve heard the twigs a-crackling,
As we crouched upon our knees,
And his big, black shape went smashing,
Like a rhino, through the trees.
We’ve seen him flung in, rank on rank,