HISTORY OF THE KILDARE HUNT 



It is his wish both night and morn 

 In punch his care to drown, Sir, 



But in the morn he'll join the horn 

 And tally ho the hounds, Sir. 



St Stephen's Day, this holy man, 



This priest he went to mass, Sir, 

 He heard the music of the hounds 



And saw the beagles pass. Sir; 

 He closed his book, his cloth forsook, 



Aside he threw his gown. Sir, 

 And mounts his mare to hunt the hare 



And tally ho the hounds, Sir. 



One day a couple came to wed, 

 When puss came by in view. Sir, 



He threw his surplice o'er his head. 

 And straight did her pursue, Sir; 



In vain they pray that he would stay; 

 They were not yet half bound. Sir, 



He said they might to bed that night 

 And tally ho the hounds, Sir. 



And every day he goes to mass 



This priest pulls on his boots. Sir, 

 And should the foxhounds chance to pass 



He'll join them in pursuit. Sir; 

 He'll risk a fall o'er hedge or wall, 



To him there are no bounds, Sir, 

 And if he can, he'll lead the van. 



And tally ho the hounds, Sir. 

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