My Hunting Song

    Yon sound's neither sheep-bell nor bark,
    They're running - they're running, Go hark!
    The sport may be lost by a moment's delay;
    So whip up the puppies and scurry away.
Dash down through the cover by dingle and dell,
There's a gate at the bottom - I know it full well;
And they're running - they're running,
    Go hark!

    They're running - they're running, Go hark!
    One fence and we're out of the park;
    Sit down in your saddles and race at the brook,
    Then smash at the bullfinch; no time for a look;
Leave cravens and skirters to dangle behind;
He's away for the moors in the teeth of the wind,
And they're running - they're running,
    Go hark!

    They're running - they're running, Go hark!
    Let them run on and run ...

Ye darksome Woods where Echo dwells,
Where every bud with freedom swells
To meet the glorious day:
The morning breaks; again rejoice;
And with old Ringwood's well-known voice
Bid tuneful Echo play.

We come, ye Groves, ye Hills, we come:
The vagrant Fox shall hear: his doom,
And dread our jovial train.
The shrill Horn sounds, the courser flies,
While every Sportsman joyful cries,
'There's Ringwood's voice again.'

Ye Meadows, hail the coming throng;
Ye peaceful Streams that wind along,
Repeat the Hark-away:
Far o'er the Downs, ye Gales that sweep,
The daring Oak that crowns the steep,
The roaring peal convey.

The chiming notes of chearful Hounds,
Hark! how the hollow Dale resounds;
The sunny Hills how gay.
But where's t...

While the morning light beams on the fern-matted streams,
And the water-pools flash in its glow,
Down the ridges we fly, with a loud ringing cry
Down the ridges and gullies we go!
And the cattle we hunt they are racing in front,
With a roar like the thunder of waves,
As the beat and the beat of our swift horses’ feet
Start the echoes away from their caves!
As the beat and the beat
Of our swift horses’ feet
Start the echoes away from their caves!

Like a wintry shore that the waters ride o’er,
All the lowlands are filling with sound;
For swiftly we gain where the herds on the plain,
Like a tempest, are tearing the ground!
And we’ll follow them hard to the rails of the yard,
O’er the gulches and mountain-tops grey,
Where the beat and the beat of our sw...

"Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
Sluggards, awake, and front the morn!
Hark ye, hark to the winding horn;
    The sun's on meadow and mill.
Follow me, hearts that love the chase;
Follow me, feet that keep the pace:
Stirrup to stirrup we ride, we ride,
    We ride by moor and hill."

Huntsman, huntsman, whither away?
What is the quarry afoot to-day?
Huntsman, huntsman, whither away,
    And what the game ye kill?
Is it the deer, that men may dine?
Is it the wolf that tears the kine?
What is the race ye ride, ye ride,
    Ye ride by moor and hill?

"Ask not yet till the day be dead
What is the game that's forward fled,
Ask not yet till the day be dead
    The game we follow still.
An echo it may be, floating past;
A shadow i...

Here’s a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord,
If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford;
And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue,
If he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly, too.

He cares not for the bubbles of Fortune’s fickle tide,
Who like Bendigo can battle, and like Olliver can ride.
He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide he’ll frown,
As he clears a five-foot paling, or he knocks a peeler down.

The dull, cold world may blame us, boys! but what care we the while,
If coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile?
For beauty’s fond caresses can most tenderly repay
The weariness and trouble of many an anxious day.

Then fill your glass, and drain it, too, with all your heart and soul,

The morning is breaking--
    The stag is away!
The hounds and the hunters
    The signal obey!
The horn bids the echoes
    Awake as we go,
And nature is jocund
    With hark!--tally-ho!
            Hark away!
                Tally-ho!

Hark forward!--Tantivy!--
    The woodland resounds
With shouts of the sportsmen
    To cheer on the hounds!
The horse and his rider,
    The deer and his foe,
Dash by to the music
    Of hark!--tally-ho!
            (He's at bay!)
                Tally-ho!