He tried the end of an old drain-spout.
It was much too small. With a bursting heart
He thought of the home where he made his start;
His flanks were heaving, his soul despairing,
He flaired again—he was always flairing
To find the best way of escape and nab it,
He couldn't get out of this flairing habit;
He felt at his back the fiery breath
Of the Kill Gorge pack that had vowed his death;