They found that day at Shillinglee,
An’ ran ’im down to Chillinghurst;
The fox was goin’ straight an’ free
For ninety minutes at a burst.
They ’ad a check at Ebernoe
An’ made a cast across the Down,
Until they got a view ’ullo
An’ chased ’im up to Kirdford town.
From Kirdford ’e run Bramber way,
An’ took ’em over ’alf the Weald.
If you ’ave tried the Sussex clay,
You’ll guess it weeded out the field.
Until at last I don’t suppose
As ’arf a dozen, at the most,
Came safe to where the grassland goes
Switchbackin’ southwards to the coast.
Young Captain ’Eadley, ’e was there,
And Jim the whip an’ Percy Day;
The Purcells an’ Sir Charles Adair,
An’ this ’ere gent from London way.
For ’e ’ad gone amazin’ fine,
Two ’undred pounds between ’is knees;
Eight stone he was, an’ rode at nine,
As light an’ limber as you please.
’E was a stranger to the ’Unt,
There weren’t a person as ’e knew there;
But ’e could ride, that London gent—
’E sat ’is mare as if ’e grew there.
They seed the ’ounds upon the scent,
But found a fence across their track,
And ’ad to fly it; else it meant
A turnin’ and a ’arkin’ back.
’E was the foremost at the fence,
And as ’is mare just cleared the rail
He turned to them that rode be’ind,
For three was at ’is very tail.
‘’Ware ’oles!’ says ’e, an’ with the word,
Still sittin’ easy on his mare,
Down, down ’e went, an’ down an’ down,
Into the quarry yawnin’ there.