HUNTING SONGS 



III 



The gentry of Cheshire, whate'er their degrees, 

 Stanleys or Egertons, Leycesters or Leghs, 

 One and all with green ribbons have garter'd their 

 knees, 



Which nobody can deny. 



IV 



Over grass while the youngsters were skimming the 



vale, 

 Down the pavement away went the old ones full sail. 

 Each green collar flapp'd by a powder'd pigtail. 



Which nobody can detjy. 



When foxes were flyers and gorse covers few, 

 Those hounds of Sir Harry, where thickest it grew. 

 How they dash'd into Huxley and hustled it through, 



IVhich nobody can deny. 



VI 



The sport they began may we still carry on. 

 And we forty good fellows, who meet at the Swan, 

 To the green collar stick, tho' our breeches be gone. 



Which nobody can deny. 



VII 



Still, whether clad in short garments or long. 

 With a Cotton to sing us a fox-hunting song. 

 And a Corbet to lead us, we cannot go wrong. 



Which nobody can deny. 

 142 



