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Count Warnoff.
I
When the war with our Muscovite foemen was o'er,Then the Offs and the Koffs came to visit our shore;
Their hard and stern features your heart would appal,
But the face of Count Warnoff was sternest of all;
A terrible man was Count Warnoff!
As cold as the snow
That envelopes Moscow
Was the heart of this horrid Count Warnoff!
II
Woe! woe! to the sport of the fox-hunting SquireWhen the Count set his foot in this peaceable shire!
So clean his own hands, his own morals so strict,
A hole in each Redcoat he presently pick'd;
106
Without speck of dirt
You must ride with clean skirt
If the wrath you'd avert of Count Warnoff!
III
The Count could not tolerate foible or folly,He never made love, and he never got jolly;
He vow'd that fox-hunting he'd have at no price
Unless horses and men were alike free from vice;
Such a virtuous man was Count Warnoff!
We must all be good boys
Or farewell to the joys
Of the chace, if we nettle Count Warnoff!
IV
Low whisper'd the huntsman (lest mischief befall him),“I don't like the look of that Count What-d'ye-call him?”
Tom wink'd his blind eye as he lifted his cap,
“He's a rum 'un, sir, ain't he, that Muscovy chap?”
Such a terrible bugbear was Warnoff!
Not a brush, nor a pad
In the shire could be had,
Such a terrible bugbear was Warnoff!
107
V
He lock'd all the gates and he wir'd all the gaps,And the woods were all planted with spikes and steel traps;
No more the earth-stoppers were dragg'd their warm beds off,
The nags in the stable stood eating their heads off;
Such a terrible man was Count Warnoff!
Little children grew pale
As their nurse told the tale
Of this terrible ogre, Count Warnoff!
VI
Cheer up, my good fellows, Count Warnoff is gone!Gone back to the banks of the Volga and Don;
He may warn us, and welcome, from off his own snow,
From the land where no fox-hunter wishes to go;
But to bother our pack
May he never come back
To this peaceable county, Count Warnoff!
1857.
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