Trusley is a village and parish nearly seven miles from Derby, and about midway between Radbourne and Longford, a seat of the Coke family.
One Valentine's Day in the Morning
Bright Phœbus began to appear
Sir William Cook winded his horn
And was going a Hunting the Hare
Says Handford[55] uncouple your Beagles
And let them go Questing along
For lose her or win her, I must go to Dinner
Or else they will think me long.
Says Handford, I pray now forbear, Sir
And talk not of Dinner so soon
For I've not been a Hunting this Year
And how can you give over by Noon.
Black Sloven shall warm your Bay Robin
And make him go smoaking along
Bonny Dick shall not Gallop so quick
If we light of a Hare that is Strong.
Well, Handford, then said the good Squire
I mean for to show you a Trick
I value no Hedges nor Ditches,
But I'll let you know Bonny Dick;
Then hye for the Clossam Bowfield
We shall get her Ten Thousand to One
There's Wonder, lays hard Thunder
Away, o're away, she is gone.
The Morning was pleasant all o're
So bright and so clear was the Air
We made all the Woods for to Roar
With the Noise of our sweet Harmony.
It was for the space of Three Hours
We held all our Horses to speed
Black Slovin held hard to Bay Robin
But yet could not do the Deed.
It was about Nine in the Morning
We sounded our first Passing Bell
Sir William, pray put up your Horn
For another fresh Hare will do well.
Well, Handford, then said the good Squire
What think you of my Bonny Dick
Do's think thou can make him to retire
Or not for to Gallop so quick?
Faith, Master, I needs must Confess
That I fear I was boasting too soon
But I for another fresh Hare
And you Dick shall have Din'd by Noon.
Well Handford, have at your black Sloven
I'll make him in Purple to Ride
And if he does offer to Tire
I'll certainly Liquor thy Hide.
You'd serve him right well, says Jack Wilson[56]
For he has been taunting at me
I never was beat in the Field
So for a fresh Hare let us see,
For here is some Closses of Corn
See well to your Place e'ry one,
Then Master, pray pull out your Horn
For away, o're away she is gone.
Young Blew-Bell, she cry'd it before
And she cry'd it all over the Lane
And after her twelve Couple more
Thus they Rattled it o're the Plain,
Bonny Dick play'd with his Bridle
And went at a desperate Rate
Come Handford, Pox take you, your Idle,
Must I open you the Gate.
O, Your humble Servant good Master
But I will not Die in your debt,
You shall find Black Sloven go faster
For now he begins for to Sweat.
There's Wonder, and Thunder, and Dido
And Merry Lass sweetly runs on,
There's Younger, Old Ranter, and Rain-Bow
But Beauty, she leads the Van.