HUNTING SONG.
Into covert they’re dashing
Thro’ bracken they’re crashing,
And it’s—“Yooi in there, wind him and drive him along.”
Into chorus they’re striking—
Now Drifty, now Viking,
Now the whole pack burst loud into glorious song,
And it’s—“Yooi in there to him and drive him along.”
Reynard pricks up his ears
When the music he hears,
Shakes the dew from his brush and slinks out of his lair.
O’er the wall he comes leaping,
Up the pasture he’s creeping,
And Danny the whip has his cap in the air.
“Tally Ho! gone away! he’s an old ’un I swear.”
“Cram your hats and get ready
Hold hard, there, sir, steady.
Tally Ho! there my beauties, hard for’ad away.”
Out o’ covert they’re breaking,
The country he’s taking
Will let none but the best see the end of the day.
Tally Ho! Tally Ho! Now, Hark for’ad away!
Now the field great and small
Make a dash for the wall,
And away o’er the pasture they’re galloping fast.
“What a terrible pace, sir,
It’s just like a race sir,
And there’s none but the thorough-bred horses ’ll last.
There’s no knowing what blood ’uns ’ll do when they’re asked.”
Now they’re running to view,
Of the field but a few
Are left, but those few struggle on in a group:
Now they’re pulling him over,
The little Red Rover
Has run his last race “so yoicks tear him who-oop!
He was game to the last was Red Rover; Who-oop!”
