Sell the stag's head for a bracket,
With its grand twelve tines—I 'd buy it myself—
And use the skin for a jacket!"
He was wiser, made both head and hide
His win-penny: hands and knees on,
Would manage to crawl—poor crab—by the roads
In the misty stalking-season.
And if he discovered a bothy like this,
Why, harvest was sure: folk listened.
He told his tale to the lovers of Sport: