13 



A DAY IN THE VALE. 



A word to the sluggard who lies in his bed 



When hounds are going out in the morn ; 

 Let him look overnight to the state of his head, 

 And shorten his liquor each time he is fed, 

 If he'd follow the hound and the horn. 



To you I appeal who love hunting at heart, 



And value the sweets of the chase ; 

 I take it that you, as you render your part, 

 Whate'er be your course on life's wonderful chart, 

 Have " merit" proclaimed in your face. 



Come down with me now to the Dorsetshire vale, 



Leave sorrow and trouble behind ; 

 The woman you worship is heartless and pale, 

 You leave her behind as you gallantly sail 



Close up to the hounds from the find. 



The note of a hound, ever sweet to the ear. 



Will leave you no feeling of pain ; 

 It drives away sorrow and drives away fear — 

 Just hark at them now as they fly to the cheer 



With a crash on the velvety plain ! 



