104 THE SISTERS ARE SCOURING TO CRY. 



They can hunt on the fallow and run on the grass, 

 They can stoop, they can drive, they can fly. 



Hold hard for a moment ! Now let the pack pass ; 



If your hunter be slow you will find it a farce 

 When the sisters are scouring to cry. 



Out over the downs they are steady from hare ; 



They'll let a round dozen go by. 

 How quickly they drive the good fox from his lair, 

 He says to himself, " It's a case of beware 



When the sisters are scouring to cry." 



Away and away, they are sinking the vale, 



Each hound like a bird in the sky, 

 And Freeman is marking their work as they sail, 

 While all of us know we must keep within hail 



When the sisters are scouring to cry. 



See Martin, the master, so quick and so keen, 



A horseman whom none can defy ; 

 His hands are perfection, his seat is serene, 

 It's a very big fence that can stop him, I ween, 



When the sisters are scouring to cry. 



We stand by the earths where the fox goes to ground, 



The fox that made everyone fly ; 

 We look in the face of each musical hound, 

 How level they look — there is time to look round- 

 How level when scouring to cry. 



