TO AN OLD SADDLE ABOUT TO BE SOLD.
Thou’rt getting up in years old friend,
As thy worn out leathers tell;
And thou has borne me bravely
O’er many a rugged fell,
On many a hunting morning,
In many a gallant run,
O’er many a wall and blackthorn,
And now thy work is done.
We are parting now for ever,
In the days of ‘Auld Lang Syne,’
We oft have parted company,
But thro’ no fault of thine.
’Twas never fault of thine, old friend,
When at blackthorn, wall, or dyke,
I left thy soft, brown pigskin
For a ditch that I didn’t like.
But now thou’rt going to be sold, old friend,
And I never may see thee more,
But I’ll never forget the good old days,
Those good old days of yore.
I’ll never forget the hunts, old friend,
What times those were! what fun!
But now thou’rt sadly split and old
And at last thy work is done.
