The Antelope

On a mountain lives an Antelope,
Sifts his nose through the rocks foraging for food.
Can’t find any, he moves on, 
Clickety clock, clickety clock.

In a mountain cave is where he lives,
A rock for a pillow is how he sleeps.
But he can’t, so he moves on,
Clickety clock, clickety clock.

On a mountaintop is where he sits,
Looking around, surveying his habitat in case of hunters.
Can’t find any, he moves on,
Clickety clock, clickety clock.

In a mountain pool is where he bathes,
The vast warm water cleanses, helps him relax.
But he can’t, so he moves on,
Clickety clock, clickety clock.

On a mountainside is where he works,
Helps his fellow animal friends survive by watching out for them.
Can’t find any, he moves on,
Clickety clock, clickety clock.

In a mountain stream is where he drinks,
The cold flow of water helps cool him down.
But he can’t, so he moves on,
Clickety clock, clickety clock.

On a mountainside the Antelope walks into a trap,
He hears a gunshot, bang, he gets hit in the back.
His heartbeat slows, he moves on,
Clickety clock, clickety thud.