THE SHADE OF THE HUNTSMAN. 9 1 



Why, yes, if you wish, I will tell you the story 



Of the shade of the huntsman who died in the chase ; 



Hut, ere we begin, here's a health to his glory : 

 How well I recall his intelligent face. 



Poor Joe, we were friends, yes, our hearts were united, 

 I knew him from childhood, a broth of a boy ; 



He'd the run of the house and he came uninvited, 

 And welcome, the children received him with joy. 



His hounds were perfection, so sorty and clever, 



Such neat necks and shoulders and bone to the feet, 



With hearts that could last, they could gallop for ever ; 

 To see them in chase was a sight and a treat. 



So quick at their work, they were true to their breeding, 

 They'd race to his holloa and fly to his cheer ; 



How quickly he spotted the hound that was leading, 

 His eye on the pack as he rode in the rear. 



One day when we hunted, one balmy November, 

 We found in the woodlands and ran to the vale, 



We passed through this farm ; yes, how well I remember 

 Joe sailing away over bullfinch and rail. 



We came to the brook, Joe was at it and over, 

 He showed us the way on the gallant grey mare, 



And over the fallow and over the clover, 



The fences were tackled with plenty to spare. 



