HUNTING SONGS 



From Tunstall comes one they call Peter, 

 And three from the Styche they call Clive. 



There's Hammond from Wistaston bringing 

 All the news of the neighbouring shire ; 



Fitzherbert renown'd for his singing. 

 And Dorfold's invincible Squire ; 



IV 



Few Sportsmen so gallant, if any. 



Did Woore ever send to the chase ; 

 Each dingle for him has a cranny. 



Each river a fordable place ; 

 He knows the best line from each cover, 



He knows where to stand for a start. 

 And long may he live to ride over 



The country he loves in his heart. 



V 



There's Henry, the purple-clad Vicar, 



So earnestly plying the steel ; 

 Conductor conducting him quicker, 



Each prick from the spur at his heel. 

 Were my life to depend on the wager, 



I know not which brother I'd back ; 

 The Vicar, the Squire, or the Major,^ 



The Purple, the Pink, or the Black. 



VI 



On a light thorough-bred there's a bruiser. 



Intent upon taking a lead ; 

 The name of the man is John Crewe, sir. 



And Ajax the name of the steed ; 



^ Note ?. 

 3 



