326 HARE-HUNTING AND HARRIERS 



I give to some Sequestred man, 



My skin to make a jacket on : 



And I bequethe my feet to they, 



That shortly mean to run away, 



When truth is Speaker, False-hood's dumb, 

 Foxes must flye when Lions come. 



To Fiddlers (for all Trades must live) 

 To serve for strings, my guts I give : 

 For Gamesters that do play at rut. 

 And love the sport, I give my skut : 

 but (last of all in this sad dump) 

 To Tower-Hill I bequeathe my Rump. 



Huntsman 



Was ever Hounds so basely crost, 

 Our Masters call us off so fast. 

 That we the scent have almost lost. 

 And they themselves must rule the rost, 

 therefore kind Hare wee'l pardon you, 

 Thanks gentle Hounds, and so adue. 



Hare 



And since your Master hath pardon'd me 

 I'le lead you all to Banbury , 

 Whereas John Turner hath a Room 

 To entertain all Guests that come 



to laugh and quaff in Wine and Beer 



a full carouse to your Careere. 



May, 1660. 

 Roxburghe Ballads. 



