5 S THE HUNTSMAN IN GREEN. 



I've seen him on " Beckford," the flea-bitten grey, 



A hunter both gallant and keen ; 

 The old horse's spirit has drifted away, 

 But the rider remains, and is game to this day- 

 Lord Worcester, the huntsman in green. 



He is seen at his best on the side of a gale, 



He knows where his quarry has been ; 

 When scent is both catchy and bad, and hounds fail 

 To own it, he shows them each turn in the vale — 



They trust him, this huntsman in green. 



They've a character, too, have these beautiful hounds, 



Their necks are both graceful and lean ; 

 How handy they seem, ever kept within bounds, 

 From the heart of the wood their sweet music resounds, 

 And the cheer of the huntsman in green. 



There's a whistle away, and a cap in the air, 



But never a fuss or a scene ; 

 The buff and blue squadron intend to be there — 

 Those men who can ride, and those ladies so fair, 



Who follow the huntsman in green. 



And over the open they race and they ride, 



Till the fox by the hedgerow is seen ; 

 The huntsman's big hunter makes use of his stride, 

 And those who are leading the galloping tide 



Hear " Who-whoop ! " from the huntsman in green. 



