HUNTING SONGS 



A Moc/ern Stable 



BEHOLD the new stable his lordship has built, 

 Its walls and its stalls painted, varnish'd and gilt ; 

 No prince in his palace. King, Sultan, or Czar, 

 Was e'er lodg'd in such state as these quadrupeds are. 



II 



Pitchfork and bucket, chain, buckle and rack, 

 Burnish'd up till they shine like the coats on their 



back ; 

 I scarce know on which most applause to bestow, 

 On the gildings above or the geldings below. 



Ill 



What I marvell'd at most, in the front of each stall 

 Why a slab of blue slate should be fix'd in the wall ? 

 Why a horse (and the query still puzzles my pate) 

 Like a schoolboy should stand with his eyes on a 

 slate ? 



IV 



Must the heads of our horses be cramm'd now-a-day 

 With learning as well as their bellies with hay ? 

 Must our yearlings be coach'd till their little go won, 

 The trainer has taught them *' to read as they run." 

 126 



