Upon our toilsome tramp.
Each gully, range, and hill we beat,
Charge every horned thing we meet—
With ringing shout and gallop fleet—
And "run" then "on the camp."
The shaggy herd increases fast;
We know by lengthened shadows cast
Time too has galloped hard;
'Twill try our powers, howe'er we strive,
This most rebellious mob to drive,