Untempted by the sunlight and the call of open spaces,
They are listening, listening, listening for the step of their desire.
And, watching, we remember all the tried and never failing,
The good ones and the game ones that have run the years at heel;
Old Scamp that killed the badger single-handed by the railing,
And Fan, the champion ratter, with her fifty off the reel.
The bitches under Ranksboro' with hackles up for slaughter,
The otter hounds on Irfon as they part the alder bowers,
The tufters drawing to their stag above the Horner Water,
The setters on Ben Lomond when the purple heather flowers.