II:

We had run past thirty-nine and five
On a bitter afternoon
And the ice below was starting to go
And we had to pass through soon,
Or we'd all be dead and frozen hard
Or something even worse!
Like strapping reefs on a ninety-foot yard
Or reading MOAB verse!

All the dogs knew it was getting tight
And bad news was in the wind
It's a thing with dogs, and they're always right
They smell harm, like a nun smells sin.
So when Bruin started to clip and whine
And snap at the lead dog's toes
We knew he had something on his mind,
But what, we did not know.

Then the wind died down to a deathly hush
And the pale light faded to gray
But we yelled and whipped, and we made them mush,
All obsessed with the next of Kay.