3I0DERN HUNTING SONG, 45 



Then ^^one g-ood horse would cany hnn/' 



As long' as he liked to go ; 

 And how this one would screw and creep, 



We all of us ou^-ht to know. 

 'Twas an amiable kind of thing- no doubt — 



But wasn't it rather slow ? 



*' There never were such times as those/' 



There never can be surely, 

 When a fox was gently simmer'd to death — 



Instead of this slap-bang- fry, 

 That's turnino- him over and doins,- him brown 



Before he can wink his eye. 



*' Late hourSj my lads^ be sure to shim/' 

 They are the root of many a sin ; 



All this cramming and racing- is clearly come 

 Of the time when we beg-in — 



For our dear old dads were Hoiking- home, 

 When we're just ' Hoiking in V 



