Hunting the Hare

Well, all the yelping of hounds a skelping
Along the cover and out through the back.
Oh the galloping, oh the walloping, oh the cry of the Galaway Jack.
Off like a feather, he floats oer the heather,
And Blackberry calls him a tune in his track.
Theres Spot and Spider and Beauty beside her,
Then Red Rake and the rest of the pack.
Well, now theyre losing him, now theyre finding him,
Now theyre winding him round by the stack.
Hark the hunt, to the hind we follow, and whoop and holler and forard and back.
Sure theres none brisker who faint cocked a whisker
Nor bustles more brisker than yonder old jack.
One more double across the stubble
And hes in trouble and tossed by the pack.
Then Brayer and Stayer are away to the stable
With jovial huntsmen the table attack.
Its meat were munching and oats theyre crunching
As bales are emptied and bottles are cracked.
Heres to the master none fairer, none faster,
To steady the ready and screw up the slack.
Heres to the hunt with your glasses a jingle,
With joy come mingle and heres to the pack.