460 The Hunting Grounds 



CHORUS. 



I 'm mounted ! I 'm mounted ! I 'm away like the wind ; 

 No steed in the desert can leave me behind. 

 Al-ham-du-lillah !* I fear not a foe ; 

 I 'm free as the breezes that o'er the sands blow ! 



My own " Desert-born," dost remember the day, 

 When Cossack hordes hovered around us at bay, 

 And we charged thro' the mass like a whirlwind's blast, 

 And gained the vast steppe when the danger was past ? 

 How the foes howled with rage as they watched our flight, 

 And followed our course till the fall of the night ? 

 I laughed at their efforts for, unmatched in speed, 

 I knew none could reach us, my brave Arab steed ! 



CHORUS. 



I 'm mounted ! I 'm mounted ! I 'm away like the wind ; 

 No steed in the desert can leave me behind. 

 Al-ham-du-lillah ! I fear not a foe ; 

 I 'm free as the breezes that o'er the sands blow ! 



We Ve traversed the land, and we Ve sailed o'er the 



main 



Now the hour 's near at hand to set forth again. 

 Fearless of danger, we roam in all weather ; 

 No peril can daunt us while we are together. 

 No maiden so fair but she causes remorse : 

 I have known none with thee, my own gallant horse ! 

 I never found friend in the hour of my need 

 True as thee, " Desert-born," my brave Arab steed ! 



* " Thanks be to God !" a common Arabic expression. 



