A little black rabbit made his way home and suddenly held his breath,
for his sixth sence warned him and showed visions of death.
He ran into his hole and found his mother in her bed
'Son, a hunter hit me, I need help or I'll die' she said
So the little rabbit ran as fast as a hinde,
driven by adrenaline and his dying mother on his mind.
The first he saw was the wise owl and the owl spoke to him:
'The health service of the white rabbits is fast, efficient and trim!'
As the little black rabbit asked the white rabbits for help
the white rabbits replied: 'We can't help blacks, you'll have to do it yourself'
'Why not?' the little black rabbit asked, 'the owl said you could!'
'True, but blacks aren't the same as whites and he never said we would...'
Desperatly the little rabbit returned, fullfilled with hidden hate,
not wanting to lose his mother but that's just common fate.
When he arrived his heart was torn he sat for ours and cried,
because his mother just left her last breath and died.
Now the moral in this story is that the white rabbits lied,
they wouldn't help a desperate congener just because he wasn't white...