Thump, thump, thump, the little rabbit rushes on, thumping his little leg on the ground.
And he huffs and he puffs.
Thump, thump, thump. Away, farther away, the little rabbit thumps southbound, immersed in thoughts profound.
And he huffs and he puffs, harder and harder and kicks and kicks around.
“Where’s the playground? Where’s the foxhound?”
And the thumping little thumps, they abound.
Sick of this monotony of sounds, the thumping rabbit goes underground, still huffing, still puffing.
But, oh… what happened, what happened? He tripped, knocked his head on the ground, poor little thumping rabbit, said the wicked ultrasound.