552 THE ESSEX FOXHOUNDS. 



But we mourn the loss of Bobby Wood 

 Who to Gloucestershire has flown. 



To Keppel and the rat-tailed bay, 

 In any crowd I'd swear ; 



But where's the Lord of Easton ? 

 Where is his Lady fair ? 



Fresh from the Kentish hop-grounds 



White comes a mighty swell, 

 St. George, who, though disqualified. 



At Rundells ran so well. 

 Here, with still vacant saddle 



A groom leads up and down, 

 For Suart, though on pleasure bent. 



Has first to go to Town. 

 While could you note their numbers, 



As on the green they pour, 

 Of Barclays, Fowlers, Pellys, 



You well might count a score. 



Just punctual to the moment 



Surrounded by the pack. 

 Comes Bailey looking fresh and smart, 



A new pink on his back. 

 Before them rides Ned Brooker, 



With Crawley as his guide. 

 And at their sterns young Turner, 



The laggard hound to chide. 



Oh ! when the spotted beauties 



Appeared upon the green. 

 What smiles of keen enjoyment 



On every face was seen ! 

 No lady in the carriages 



But cried out, " Look, what dears !" 

 No hunter but put up his back 



Or put back both his ears. 



