Song: Where the Foxes...

[cadhla]

Ginger and silver and ebony dark;
Playground and tea house and swings in the park;
Waitress and princess and sailor at sea;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.

Hidden and hiding and hide-and-go-seek;
Bold as a lion or office mouse-meek;
Typewriter-tethered, or open road-free;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.

So look for the foxholes wherever you are.
        Be certain the foxes are never that far.

Physicists, waitresses, stay-at-home wives;
Foxes concealed within everyday lives;
Teaching the secrets of man's history;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.

Giving an inch while they're taking a mile;
Unpainted faces and lipstick-laced smiles;
Planting a dream or just planting a tree;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.

So look for the foxholes wherever you are.
        Be certain the foxes are never that far.

And the foxes keep an eye on all the seasons,
                Keep the daylight coming,
                Foxes steal the rhymes from all the reasons,
                Keep all the tensions thrumming,
                Foxes give us questions for they know
                We have to keep on hunting --
                Foxes run to show us how to grow
                And they'll just keep on running
                Home...

(Northern and southern and right by the sea;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.
Snow-bound or rain-bound or sunlit and free;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.
They've hidden the locks, and they've hidden the key;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.)

Ginger and silver and rainbow array;
Here just to go and forbidden to stay;
Somewhere too close for your own eyes to see;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.

Little blond singers with vagabond curls;
Rose-topped sopranos and fiddler girls;
They're hidden in her, and they're hidden in me;
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.

Nobody knows where the foxes will be.
Nobody knows where the foxes will be.

(Written for the current round of Iron Poet.)