lO 



Which way to go next ; but the wave of an arm 

 Showed the Parson had seen him just under the farm, 

 And dragging his brush through a gap that was rent, 

 His tongue hanging out and his energy spent. 



The Httle red rover went crawHng along. 



" Who-whoop ! " — as they killed him — " who-whoop ! " was 

 the song. 



The brush was reserved for the Rectory wall, 



Where it hangs by the whips that adorn the front hall. 



The Sporting Divine pray allow us to keep. 

 Good Bishops, who wish to do well for your sheep. 

 We like his example, and wish to respect 

 The calling that always will make him select. 



So here's to our own, let us fill up the bowl. 

 Long, long may he lead us in body and soul. 

 Still well to the front on a fine hunting morn. 

 This nailer to follow the hound and the horn. 



