HUNTING SONGS 



" And that week with old Sir Harry 

 Which at Tarporley we spent, 

 Where Chester's dewy pastures 

 Are renown'd for holding scent ; 

 Where Dorfold's Squire o'er saddle flaps 

 Unpadded threw his leg. 

 Where stride for stride, rode side by side. 

 Sir Richard and John Glegg. 



" That Rupert of the hunting-field, 



Tom Smith the lion-hearted, 



Where grew the fence, where flow'd the stream. 



Could baffle him when started ? 



A game-cock in the battle-ring. 



An eagle in his flight, 



A shooting-star when mounted. 



But a fixed one in the fight; 



" Though no longer what we were, Ned, 

 Ere the reign of good Queen Vic, 

 Methinks we still could teach them 

 How their fathers did the trick ; 

 I hold the young ones cheap, Ned — " 

 " Hush, your son is at the door. 

 With his pipe of Latakia, 

 We had better say no more." 



[78 



