112 SHOOTING : 



And having reach'd the turnips, Harry says, 

 In which he's sure th' aforesaid covey lays ; 

 Let him take up one dog in such a case, 

 Where birds are mark'd, one's better than a brace. 

 Should it so hap the old ones lives you've taken, 

 The young ones must look out to save their bacon ; 

 For, as the parent birds first meet the eyes, 

 As they from earth are always first to rise, 

 It very often haps they first are slain ; 

 The brood, while looking for its guides in vain, 

 Takes a half flight, and straggling reaches earth, 

 And where it lights of shots you'll have no dearth ; 

 They singly rise, and thus with cautious care, 

 A first-rate half hour's sport you chance to share ; 

 And shooting steadily, if so 'tis fated, 

 This covey may be soon annihilated : 

 For single birds in vain on fate will cry, 

 Betwixt the doubles, four to one they die. 



Fire not too quickly when they near you rise, 

 Or your day's game bag will be no great prize, 



