HUNTS WITH JORROCKS 



Though toast after toast with great glee has been given, 



The highest top-sparkling bumper decides, 

 That for stoutness, pace, beauty, on this side of Heaven, 

 Unrivalled the hounds o'er which Lamb ton presides ! 

 Then drink to the foxhounds, 

 The high mettled foxhounds, 

 We '11 drink to the hounds o'er which Lambton presides. 



' Let Uckerby boast of the feats of the Baby, 



And Raven scar tell what the Hurworth have done, 

 But the wide-spreading pastures of Sadberge can swear to 



The brushes our fleet pack of foxhounds have won. 

 Then that Sedgefield, our country, all countries outvies, sir, 



The highest top-sparkling bumper decides, 

 That we Ve foxes can fly, sir, or sinking must die, sir, 



When pressed by the hounds o'er which Lambton presides. 

 Then drink, etc. 



'Of their heart-bursting "flys" let the Leicestershire tell us, 



Their plains, their ox fences, and that sort of stuff". 

 But give me a day with the Sedgefield brave fellows, 



When horses ne'er flinch, nor men cry, hold, enough. 

 Whilst the blood of old Caesar our foxes can boast, sir, 



May Lambton their only dread enemy be, 

 And the green waving whins of our covers my toast, sir. 



Oh ! the hounds and the blood of old Lambton for me. 

 Then drink, etc.' 



And Jorrocks did drink, and did whoop, and 



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