Growl

I sprint across the moor
Nostrils flaring wide
Sinewed sides
Heavy Sighs

To take in earth and sky

The moor where the heathen 

 Black Oak dwells

The moor that mingles both heaven and hell

I must go out on the moor, again

For I’ve long since said goodbye

I must go where I was meant to be

To this fertile bog, the cold damp fog

This is the domain of the feudal thane

Where grows A. Lycoctonum

The Herbaceous Wolf Bane

I’ve picked up the scent of something warm

Someone has lost his way

Maybe they’re waiting for help to arrive

Well, now it’s on its way

I’ll see to it they make it safely home

I have a heart, you know

But if their deeds are quite loathsome

Then I'll ensure they're just another

     "No Show"