35 



" 'Tis ' Forester,' the good old Hound, 

 " And hark, hark to his cry ;" 

 Away they scramble through the brake, 

 And quickly to him fly. 



A whimper from a younger Hound, 

 Who's rather in a fright, 

 But " Reginald " and " Lurgan " come. 

 And quickly set him right. 



And now the chorus loud resounds 

 Throughout the forest glade ; 

 The fox begins to think that he 

 Must leave its welcome shade. 



Away he goes, and pointing south. 

 As if for Shores of Forth, 

 Holds on to Torrie Park, and then 

 He bends a Httle north. 



Through Oakley Woods and past the house, 

 He leads a merry dance ; 

 The owner would have liked the fun, 

 Bat he's away in France. 



On o'er the railway, up the hill. 

 And past a farm he speeds ; 

 " 'Twill put," the farmer loudly shouts, 

 "My cattle ofl" their feeds." 



Blair Wood appears, they do not dwell. 

 But steady hunt him through ; 

 Kinneddar's strips and policies 

 Now burst upon the view. 



