 | Hunting Songs |  |
On the New Kennel, erected on Delamere Forest.
May, 1834.
I
Great names in the Abbey are graven in stone,Our kennel records them in good flesh and bone;
A Bedford, a Gloster, to life we restore,
And Nelson with Victory couple once more,
Derry down, down, down, derry down.
30
II
Were the laws of the kennel the laws of the land,The shillalah should drop from the Irishman's hand;
And journeymen tailors, on “striking” intent,
Should stick to their stitching like hounds to a scent.
III
O! grant, ye reformers, who rule o'er us all,That our kennels may stand though our colleges fall;
Our pack from long trial we know to be good,
Grey-hounds admitted might ruin the blood.
IV
Fond parents may dote on their pride of thirteen,Switch'd into Latin and breech'd in nankeen;
A puppy just enter'd a language can speak
More sweetly sonorous than Homer's own Greek.
V
O! clothe me in scarlet! a spur on each heel!And guardsmen may case their whole bodies in steel!
Lancers in battle with lancers may tilt,
Mine be the warfare unsullied with guilt!
31
VI
New built, may this kennel continue to rearA pack still as prime as the old ones bred here;
May the depth of their cry be no check to their pace,
But the ring of their music still gladden the chase.
Derry down, down, down, derry down.
1834.
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