HISTORY OF THE KILDARE HUNT 



He's prepared for a deal and ready for chaff 

 He loikes a good joke and enjoys a good laugh. 

 There's a grand one to ride who as iveryone knows 

 Is troubled with neither the shakes nor the slows 

 Wid judgment that's true and a firm huntin' sate 

 The Baron de Robeck's a hard man to bate; 

 Here comes another who on ridin' is bint 

 I hardly need tell you 'tis Fortescue Tynte; 

 And look at old Frolic she shines like a bottle 

 Each vein standin' out on her skin like a wattle. 

 See Percy La Touche now racing behind him 

 A harder man show me if ever ye find him. 

 And who's that young feller upon a grey horse? 

 What blather ye're talkin, ye know him of course. 

 He's one of those Brooks as a liquor shop kape 

 And always protists a good article's chape. 

 And that's Mr Power who a few years ago 

 Knocked sparks from the wall of the Dublin Horse 



Show. 

 There's two Mr Moores the one a cheese rather 

 He's in the ninth Lancers, the other's his father. 

 Who's that welterweight? 'tis Mr Charles Bourke* 

 He's sharper by far than the prong of a fork; 

 He must be a bad un and given to sin 

 For divil a prison he hasn't been in. 

 And that's Mr Wakefield, a hardy ould chap 

 Wid black butcher boots and a black velvet cap 

 Hard ridin' Sir James, though he bustles his cob 

 Will ne'er be mistook for a galloping snob. 



* Inspector General of Prisons in Ireland. 



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