And tops like Meltonian swell,
It ends in the blessed old ditches,
I know like the Clubs in Pall Mall.
And when from a "gee" that's unruly
I fall with a terrible jar,
I know that old Jorrocks spoke truly,
And hunting's "the image of war."
And never for me "Fair Diana"
Shall smile as we know that she can,
With looks that are sweeter than manna,