,268 THE OLD BERKS HUNT 



The Old Berkshire. 



January nth, 1875. 



At Challow Station, this day's meet, 



With Craddock pleased his friends to greet, 



And Treadwell with his lot so crack 



With those he calls his little pack. 



The London train arrives at last, 



Not at eleven, but quite half past ; 



The noble lord* comes down from town, 



And mounts his horse, — The Yeoman brown. 



With orders given for Woodhill cover. 



We hear the sound, " Yoik ! over, over ! " 



But here to-day no fox can find. 



Which leaves a blank to all mankind. 



We're told his castle's in the air, 



And so to Washborough's tree repair. 



The Master (Mr. Tom) trots on. 



And cracks his whip; now for some fun. 



Bold Reynard still is sound asleep. 



But wakes and takes a flying leap. 



The horn we hear, a thrilling blow, 



The cheery sound all sportsmen know. 



And now for Barwell Farm and Grove, 



He turns his brush and on he strove ; 



The scent breast high as on they fly, 



The powers of every one to try. 



A turn, he leads us to the left. 



And takes a line of quite the best. 



Now by Woodhill we are flying, 



Challow is the point he's trying. 



With many keen at each big fence, 



And some as tho' they had no sense ; 



Pullen, at rail and ditch intent, 



Shatter'd the timber as he went. 



As Woodhill now is left behind 



At Challow works the hounds we find ; 



* Lord Craven. 



