140 SHOOTING: 



We ought to bless our stars the birds are left, 

 Or of the sport of following them, bereft 

 We should be, more than now ; and that they may 

 Ne'er try their quality, I humbly pray. 



At February's close, or March's dawn, 

 In flocks along the coast they num'rous form, 

 To seek their native homes ; 'fore which they pair, 

 And wait with patience till the weather's fair ; 

 During which time a piping noise they raise, 

 Which is continued for the last few days 

 They sojourn here ; for when at them you shoot 

 At other times, you'll ever find them mute : 

 And mostly those who live along the coast, 

 We find, the largest numbers make the boast 

 Of Cocks they kill. Many are yearly lost 

 Both to and fro, before the channel's crost : 



By night they travel, and are never known 



* 

 To reach our shores till day to night is grown ; 



And aft* a passage that has boist'rous been, 

 On reaching land, they on the ground are seen, 



