 | Hunting Songs |  |
15
The Little Red Rover.
I
The dewdrop is clingingTo whin-bush and brake,
The skylark is singing
“Merrie hunters, awake;”
Home to the cover,
Deserted by night,
The little Red Rover
Is bending his flight.
II
Resounds the glad hollo;The pack scents the prey;
Man and horse follow
Away! Hark, away!
Away! never fearing,
Ne'er slacken your pace:
What music so cheering
As that of the chase?
III
The Rover still speeding,Still distant from home,
Spurr'd flanks are bleeding,
And cover'd with foam;
16
Roan, chestnut, or grey,
The burst, ere 'tis ended,
Shall try them to-day!
IV
Well known is yon cover,And crag hanging o'er,
The little Red Rover
Shall reach it no more!
The foremost hounds near him,
His strength 'gins to droop:
In pieces they tear him,
Who-whoop! Who-who-whoop!
| Hunting Songs | |