They don't breed men like him these days; he'd come For sure, and sit and talk and suck his briar Till the old wife brings up a dish of tea. Aye, those were days, when I was serving Squire! I never knowed such sport as '85, The winter afore the one that snowed us. silly. 49 Once in a way the will drop in parson And read a bit o' the Bible, if I'm bad,Pray the Good Lord to make my spirit whole In faith: he leaves some 'baccy on the shelf, And wonders I don't keep a dog to cheer In every fence; good sportsmen to a man To educate myself for prayers and psalms. There was an iron-spiked fence round all But now I'm old and bald and seriousminded, With days to sit and ponder. I'd no chance When young and gay to get the hang of all the coverts, And civil-spoken keepers I couldn't trust, And the main earth unstopp'd. The fox I found Was always a three-legged 'un from a bag Who reeked of aniseed and wouldn't run. The farmers were all plowing their old pasture And bellowing at me when I rode their beans To cast for beaten fox, or galloped on With hounds to a lucky view. I'd lost my voice 100 When foxes ran down wind and scent was catchy! And that light lemon bitch of the Squire's, old Dorcas, She were a marvelous hunter, were old Dorcas! Although I shouted fit to burst my guts, Aye, oft I've thought: 'If there were And couldn't blow my horn. hounds in Heaven, Though many I've met were jolly chaps, Clean-shaved and gray, with shrewd, kind Sitting alone in a great room of books Some hounds I've known were wise as half Some evening after hunting. |