Now Raccoon said to the possum,
Under a harvest moon.
“The grapes are ripe
So let’s not gripe
We’ll fill our stomachs soon.”

The two friends ate a lot of grapes
But Raccoon ate too fast.
With tempers short,
And not too smart,
Each fought to eat the last.

But coonhounds baying on their trail
Brought terror to their ears.
Hounds tough to beat,
With flying feet;
Angers replaced by fears.

Raccoon told possum, “Let’s run fast,
We’ll head down to the pond.”
But Possum said
“I’ll soon be dead!”
He knew when he’d been conned.

Raccoon was faster on the ground
And he could swim as well.
But possum knew
A thing or two
As they ran down the trail.

Now coon hounds were a special breed;
They hunted most by scent;
But not too bright.
With game in sight,
They all rush off hell-bent.

Now Possum did what possums do
And played dead by the trail;
Without a twitch,
Laid in the ditch
As hounds ran by pell-mell…

While raccoon made it to the pond
And quickly jumped right in.
The grapes he ate
Were added weight
And that’s why possums grin.