Hunting Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

“Ould mon, it's welly milkin toim, where ever 'ast 'ee bin?
Thear's slutch upo' thoi coat, oi see, and blood upo' thoi chin;”
“Oiv bin to see the gentlefolk o' Cheshur roid a run;
Owd wench! oiv been a hunting, an oiv seen some rattling fun.

II

“Th' owd mare was i' the smithy when the huntsman, he trots through,
Black Bill agate o' ammering the last nail in her shoe;
The cuvver laid so wheam loik, an so jovial foin the day,
Says I, ‘Owd mare, we'll tak a fling and see 'em go away.’

III

“When up, an oi'd got shut ov aw the hackney pads an traps,
Orse dealers an orse jockey lads, and such loik swaggering chaps,
Then what a power o' gentlefolk did I set oies upon!
A reining in their hunters, aw blood orses every one!

IV

“They'd aw got bookskin leathers on, a fitten 'em so toight,
As roind an plump as turmits be, an just about as whoit;
Their spurs wor maid o' siller, and their buttons maid o' brass,
Their coats wor red as carrots an their collurs green as grass.

V

“A varment looking gemman on a woiry tit I seed,
An another close besoid him, sitting noble on his steed;
They ca' them both owd codgers, but as fresh as paint they look,
John Glegg, Esquoir, o' Withington, an bowd Sir Richard Brooke.

VI

“I seed Squoir Geffrey Shakerley, the best un o' that breed,
His smoiling feace tould plainly how the sport wi' him agreed;
I seed the 'Arl ov Grosvenor, a loikly lad to roid,
I seed a soight worth aw the rest, his farencly young broid.

VII

“Zur Umferry de Trafford an the Squoir ov Arley Haw,
His pocket full o' rigmarole, a rhoiming on 'em aw;
Two Members for the Cointy, both aloik ca'd Egerton;—
Squoir Henry Brooks and Tummus Brooks, they'd aw green collurs on.

VIII

“Eh! what a mon be Dixon John, ov Astle Haw, Esquoir,
You wudna foind, and measure him, his marrow in the shoir;
Squoir Wilbraham o' the Forest, death and danger he defoies,
When his coat be toightly button'd up, and shut be both his oies.

IX

“The Honerable Lazzles, who from forrin parts be cum,
An a chip of owd Lord Delamere, the Honerable Tum;
Squoir Fox an Booth an Worthington, Squoir Massey an Squoir Harne,
An many more big sportsmen, but their neames I didna larn.

X

“I seed that great commander in the saddle, Captain Whoit,
An the pack as thrung'd about him was indeed a gradely soight;
The dugs look'd foin as satin, an himsel look'd hard as nails,
An he giv the swells a caution not to roid upo' their tails.

XI

“Says he, ‘Young men o' Monchester an Livverpoo, cum near,
Oiv just a word, a warning word, to whisper in your ear,
When, starting from the cuvver soid, ye see bowd Reynard burst,
We canna 'ave no 'unting if the gemmen go it first.’

XII

“Tom Rance has got a single oie, wurth many another's two,
He held his cap abuv his yed to show he'd had a view;
Tom's voice was loik th' owd raven's when he skroik'd out ‘Tally-ho!’
For when the fox had seen Tom's feace he thoght it toim to go.

XIII

“Ey moy! a pratty jingle then went ringin through the skoy,
Furst Victory, then Villager begun the merry croy,
Then every maith was open from the oud'un to the pup,
An aw the pack together took the swellin chorus up.

XIV

“Eh moy! a pratty skouver then was kick'd up in the vale,
They skim'd across the running brook, they topp'd the post an rail,
They didna stop for razzur cop, but play'd at touch an go,
An them as miss'd a footin there lay doubled up below.

XV

“I seed the 'ounds a crossing Farmer Flareup's boundary loin,
Whose daughter plays the peany an drinks whoit sherry woin,
Gowd rings upon her finger and silk stockings on her feet;
Says I, ‘it won't do him no harm to roid across his wheat.’

XVI

“So, toightly houdin on by'th yed, I hits th' owd mare a whop,
Hoo plumps into the middle o'the wheatfield neck an crop;
And when hoo floinder'd out on it I catch'd another spin,
An, missis, that's the cagion o'the blood upo' my chin.

XVII

“I never oss'd another lep, but kep the lane, an then
In twenty minutes' toim about they turn'd toart me agen;
The fox was foinly daggled, an the tits aw out o' breath,
When they kilt him in the open, an owd Dobbin seed the death.

XVIII

“Loik dangling of a babby, then the Huntsman hove him up,
The dugs a bayin roind him, while the gemman croid, ‘Whoo-hup!’
As doesome cawves lick fleetings out o'th' piggin in the shed,
They worried every inch of him, aw but his tail an yed.

XIX

“Now, missis, sin the markets be a doing moderate well,
Oiv welly maid my moind up just to buoy a nag mysel;
For to keep a farmer's spirits up 'gen things be gettin low,
Theer's nothin loik Fox-huntin and a rattling Tally-ho!”

1853.