LORD NAAS, 1857-1862 



To KerdifFstown as we jog down 



Each nymph and gallant swain 

 Resolves to go through weal or woe 



O'er rasper, wall, or drain. 

 Hark, tally ho, away they go 



Now for the run prepare. 

 Lose not a minute or you're not in it 



When hunting in Kildare. 



Keep up your head, keep down your hand, 



Sit steady, straight and tight. 

 Don't make a burst or go at first 



While yet your game's in sight; 

 Your thoughts combine to mark your line. 



Of rushing fools beware 

 And put on pace at proper place 



When hunting in Kildare. 



What music sweet, what hounds so fleet, 



O, rapture, O, what bliss! 

 All earthly joys are childish toys 



Compared with sport like this. 

 The rattling fun of Reynard's run 



Dispels all earthly care 

 And cures more ills than Cockle's pills 



When hunting in Kildare. 



Now here's a toast my jovial host 



May hunting flourish long. 

 May all support that noble sport 



And to its meeting throng; 



297 



