HUNTING SONGS 



Crawling back from the station all London look'd 



dull, 

 My heart, though my cushions were empty, was full ; 

 So lonesome, I thought it would cheer me to stop 

 As I pass'd by the gin-shop, and call'd for a drop. 



When my home I had reach'd and had stabled my 



mare. 

 When in haste I had climb'd to my lodging upstair, 

 A hole through the coin I was eager to bore. 

 That the keepsake might hang round my neck ever- 

 more. 



I search'd where I'd hid it — struck dumb with 



despair, 

 I found that save pence there was nothing left there ; 

 At the gin-shop, alas, by that one little glass 

 Had my keepsake of silver been changed into brass. 



Hush ! Hush ! Hush ! 



I LOVE but one fair face, 

 And though much I love the chace, 

 A blank to me the pastime if that loved one be not 

 near ; 

 To the covert as we went, 

 Every thought on her was bent. 

 And pleasant were the words of love I whisper'd in 

 her ear ; 

 But the maiden's thoughts that day 

 While I woo'd her, where were they ? 

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