HUNTING SONGS 



The Woore Country 



I 



NOW summer's dull season is over. 

 Once more we behold the glad pack. ; 

 And Wicksted appears at the cover, 



Once more on old Mercury's back ; 

 And Wells in the saddle is seated,^ 



Though with scarce a whole bone in his skin ; 

 His cheer by the echo repeated, 

 'Loo in ! little dearies ! 'loo in ! 



II 



How eagerly forward they rush, 



In a moment how widely they spread ; 

 Have at him there, Hotspur ! hush ! hush ! 



'Tis a find or I'll forfeit my head ; 

 Fast flies the Fox away — faster 



The hounds from the cover are freed ; 

 The horn to the mouth of the master, 



The spur to the flank of his steed. 



Ill 



May the names now recorded in metre 



While Hunting endureth survive ; 



1 Note I. 

 A 



