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THERE'S LIFE IN THE OLD 

 HORSE YET. 



There's life in him yet, see them slowly advancing, 

 The shapely old hunter is leading the team 



Along through the vale where the sunlight is dancing, 

 Along by the brook with the silvery gleam. 



What loins, what a back, and what quarters behind him ! 



How short in the cannon, how low in the knee ; 

 From his tapering head to his heel you will find him 



A hunter all over as neat as can be. 



There'-s life in him yet, so the carter is musing, 

 He looks at the old horse with pride in his face ; 



" He'll last me awhile with good food and good using. 

 He's honest and good at his work in the trace." 



But hark ! there is music that fills you with feeling, 

 The horn and the halloa are heard by the mill ; 



Look, yonder he goes, see him stealthily stealing, 

 The bonny brown fox has gone over the hill. 



Yon notes of the pack, like the mingling of waters. 



In musical cadence come over the lea ; 

 The white hound is leading, her sons and her daughters 



All crash through the gap that is under the tree. 



