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Hunting Songs

by R. E. Egerton-Warburton

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 I. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Killing no Murder.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Killing no Murder.

I know not—search all England round,
If better Huntsman can be found,
A bolder rider or a neater,
When mounted for the field, than Peter;
But this I know, there is not one
So bent on blood as Collison.
Hear now the doctrine he propounds,
All ye who love to follow hounds:—
Says he, “Since first my horn was blown,
This maxim have I made my own;
Kill if you can with sport;—but still—
Or with it or without it,—kill.

148

A feather in my cap to pin,
A fresh one every brush I win!
That fox is doom'd who seeks for rest
In gorse or spinney when distrest;
Though far and fast he may have sped,
He counts for nothing till he's dead.
I hold that Whip not worth his pay,
Who fails to keep him there at bay;
When round and round the coverside
The mounted mob, like madmen, ride,
Now cross him here, now head him there,
While shouts and clamour rend the air.
Spare him, the gentle folk may say,
To live and fight another day;
Upon my coat conspicuous seen,
All know me by my collar green,
I should myself be greener still,
Were I to spare when I could kill;
Excuse me, gentlemen, I say
My hounds have had but two to-day.
“When April ends the hunting year,
How then should I in Bell appear?
Or how my brother Huntsmen face
If short of booking fifty brace?
There's nothing, I maintain, absurder
Than to say that killing's Murder.”
1865.