THE WOORE COUNTRY 



There's Aqualate's Baronet, Boughey, 

 Whose eye still on Wicksted is cast ; 



Should the Fox run till midnight, I know he 

 Will stick by his friend to the last. 



VII 



Ford,' if well mounted, — how cheery 



To ride by his side in a run ; 

 Whether midnight or morn, never weary 



Of revel, and frolic, and fun. 

 When they lay this good fellow the tomb in, 



He shall not be mock'd with a bust, 

 But the favourite evergreen blooming 



Shall spring and o'ershadow his dust. 



VIII 



With Chorister, Concord, and Chorus, 



Now Chantress commences her song, 

 Now Bellman goes jingling before us, 



And Sinbad is sailing along ; 

 Old Wells closely after them cramming, 



His soul quite absorb'd in the fun, 

 Continues unconsciously damning 



Their dear little hearts as they run. 



IX 



His voice by the horsemen unheeded 

 At whom he ne'er ceases to swear. 



Should the pace by a check be impeded 

 Then Charlie trots up in despair ; 



^ Note 3. 



