THE KEEPER 



The Keeper 



RUFUS KNOX, his lordship's keeper, is a formid- 

 able chap, 

 So at least think all who listen to his swagger at the 



tap ; 

 Ain't he up to poachers ? ain't he down upon 'em 



too ? 

 This very night he'd face and fight a dozen of the 

 crew. 



II 



With the Squire who hunts the country he is ever 



in disgrace, 

 For " Vulpicide " is written in red letters on his face ; 

 His oath that in one cover he a brace of foxes saw. 

 Is the never-failing prelude that foretokens a blank 



draw. 



Ill 



The mousing owl he spares not, flitting through the 



twilight dim. 

 The beak it wears, it is, he swears, too hook'd a one 



for him ; 

 In every woodland songster he suspects a secret foe. 

 His earno music toucheth, save the roosting pheasant's 



crow. 



99 



