Hunting The Hare
Hunting The Hare
Over Hill And Plain They´re Bounding,
thro` The Air They Seem To Fly,
hark! The Merry Horn Is Sounding,
hear The Hunter`s Papy Cry!
now Through Dingle, Dell And Hollow,
dart They On At Fearless Pace:
oh! What Joy The Hounds To Follow,
there`s No Pleasure Like The Chase.
When the day`s glad sport is over,
Seated in the Barons hall,
Round the festive board discover,
Gallant hunter`s one and all.
Laughing loudly, joking, singing,
As the wine goes round apace,
While the ancient roof is ringing
With the glories of the chase!
86
/ 100