MR. HENLEY GEORGE GREAVES 235 



I'm sure that you all will remember the day 

 When from Steventon village we trotted away, 

 To Milton Hill Gorse. We've its owner to thank, 

 That it seldom or never was known to be blank. 

 Chorus. 



Now the hounds had scarce spread themselves over 



the gorse 

 When out of it rattled a gallant old fox, 

 With his head in the air, and one whisk of his brush, 

 Whilst hounds, Sirs, and horsemen close after him 



push. 

 Chorus. 



His point Hendred Cowleaze so quickly he made. 

 But being hard pressed not a moment delayed, 

 Then pointing for Norbrook, but here I must say 

 These covers afforded no shelter that day. 

 Chorus. 



Past Wantage Road Station for Denchworth he took 

 To the left of the village, and over the brook ; 

 Some in, and some over, but every man bent 

 Upon seeing the finish wherever they went. 

 Chorus. 



Down those beautiful pastures for Childrey they go, 



A much better line I defy you to show ; 



Here a slight check occurred, but they stuck to him 



still. 

 So to better his fortune he made for the hill. 

 Chorus. 



Now once in the open we all of us could 



Plainly see that his point. Sirs, was Uffington Wood ; 



But then his strength failed, he could not make his 



home, 

 So died varmint, and game, at the Old Blowing 



Stone. 

 Cliorus. 



