SONG 



Song 



STAGS in the forest lie, hares in the valley-o ! 

 Web-footed otters are spear'd in the lochs ; 

 Beasts of the chace that are not worth a Tally-ho 

 All are surpass'd by the gorse-cover fox ! 

 Fishing, though pleasant, 

 I sing not at present, 

 Nor shooting the pheasant. 



Nor fighting of cocks ; 

 Song shall declare a way 

 How to drive care away, 

 Pain and despair away. 

 Hunting the fox ! 



II 



Bulls in gay Seville are led forth to slaughter, 

 nor 

 Dames, in high rapture, the spectacle shocks ; 

 Brighter in Britain the charms of each daughter, 

 nor 

 Dreads the bright charmer to follow the fox. 

 Spain may delight in 

 A sport so exciting ; 

 Whilst 'stead of bull-fighting 



We fatten the ox ; 

 Song shall declare a way, &c. 



K 73 



