36 



Across the road bo Bandrum Hill, 

 But here he runs his foil, 

 A check ensues, we're all at fault, 

 So round the hill we toil. 



A shepherd waves his cap on high, 

 " The Tod is north !" shouts he, 

 " The biggest one that e'er I've seen ; 

 *' He's near as long as me !" 



Across the road we get a scent, 

 Yes ! surely that's his line ; 

 They score to cry ; away they go ; 

 My certes, but it's fine. 



Now " Eioter," he shoots a-head. 

 Who once was fond of Hare, 

 But now a fox is scarce afoot, 

 But " Rioter " is there. 



Still up the hill they stream away, 

 " Excelsior" is the cry ; 

 And some of us begin to think 

 Our nags will surely die. 



" Come up, good horse, we will be there, 

 *' The hill we must get round," 

 They cock their ears, their bristles rise, 

 "We'll have him for a Pound !" 



Now cast your eye along yon hedge, 

 Which leads to Milton Den ; 

 " 'Tis he ! I see his drooping brush ; 

 *' He's mine for Three Pounds Ten !" 



