74 The great Sttllington Run. 



Where's W — dy, of Y-— m ? (8) Oh ! he's made a mistake. 



Being certain to know the road Reynard would take ; 



But to-day he's deceived him, Ren's changed his hne, 



So he's left in the lanes, or he's gone home to dine. 



Where's Harrier Huntsman, the son of Physician ? (9) 



On a mare that could go with such blood and condition, 



If he only durst ride her, but that he'll ne'er do, 



So he makes the old excuse of losing a shoe. 



Among those who started at Haughton-le-skerne, 



Oh, where, then, oh, where, is the Squire of S — kb — n ? (10) 



Turning shy at a rasper, behind them he slunk, 



His mare in a fidget, himself in a funk. 



I've kept you so long o'er the horses and men, 



I'd almost forgotten the hounds and bold Ren. ; 



By Great Stainton village still onward they flew. 



Near Bishopton Plantings they have him in view. 



Down Stillington Bank like a torrent they rush, — 



Poor Reynard's in trouble — they're close at his brush ; 



And in forty-five minutes, with never a check, 



They pull'd him to pieces in Stillington Beck. 



At the death of the fox (nay, now, don't think it strange), 



For who should come up but Squire A — 1 — n of Grange (11), 



But how that he got there, a question remains, — 



Was't by knowing the country, or riding the lanes ? 



May a true-hearted foxhunter pardon a brother. 



If it happened to be neither one nor the other ; 



At a good steady pace, perhaps as some not so fast, 



Yet blood and good bottom told a tale at the last. 



May each honest foxhunter keep a good fame. 



Nor turn " Dog in manger," like one I could name (12); 



T. W. Waldy. of Egglescliffe. 



Jack Peacock, of Darlington, the author of the song. 

 The late Mr. Blackett, of Sockburn. 

 The late W. Allan, of Blackwell Grange. 



The first Duke of Cleveland, who, on giving up the hounds, burnt all his coverts, and 

 destroyed the foxes. 



