^r. Egerton Warhurton 



SONG 



Stags in the forest lie, hares in the valley-o ! 



Web-footed otters are speared in the lochs ; 

 Beasts of the chase that are not worth a Tally-ho ! 

 All are surpass 'd by the gorse-cover fox ! 

 Fishing, though pleasant, 

 I sing not at present, 

 Nor shooting the pheasant. 



Nor fighting of cocks ; 

 Song shall declare a way 

 How to drive care awav. 

 Pain and despair away, 

 Hunting the fox ! 



Bulls in gay Seville are led forth to slaughter, nor 



Dames, in high rapture, the spectacle shocks ; 

 Brighter in Britain the charms of each daughter, nor 

 Dreads the bright charmer to follow the fox. 

 Spain may delight in 

 A sport so exciting ; 

 While *stead of bullfighting 



We fatten the ox ; 

 Song shall declare a way 

 How to drive care away. 

 Pain and despair away. 

 Hunting the fox ! 



England's green pastures are grazed in security. 

 Thanks to the Saxon who cared for our flocks ! 



He who, reserving the sport for futurity. 

 Sweeping our wolves away left us the fox. 



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