HUNTING SONGS 



IV 



Forgetting soon his breakfast spoon he takes a spoony 



turn, 

 His heart feels hot within him like a heater in the urn ; 

 A sudden slip 'twixt cup and lip to Beauty from Bohea, 

 His tea no more he misses, thinks no more of Mrs. T. 



A lottery they needs must have upon the Derby day. 

 Fair fingers cut the tickets, so of course it was fair play ; 

 My Lord, who draws the favourite, o'erwhelms them 



with his thanks. 

 Poor Thompson's had no breakfast ! so they hand 



him all the blanks. 



VI 



Poor Thompson's had no breakfast ! it was whisper'd 



in a tone 

 Which meant, if words a meaning have, " How 



hungry we are grown ! " 

 Poor Thompson sigh'd as they untied the hamper, 



Thompson's sigh. 

 Say was it for his ladie-love or for the pigeon pie ? 



VII 



Poor Thompson's had no breakfast ! looking down 



he now surveys 

 The fair insiders filling their inside with mayonnaise ; 

 For the luncheon stakes disqualified was Thompson, 



they declare, ' 

 A stomach twice as empty as their own would not 



be fair. 

 124 



