The horse is bedded down
      Where the straw lies deep,
   The hound is in the kennel,
      He is yapping in his sleep. 
   But the fox is in the spinney
      Lying snug in earth and burrow. 
   And I’ll lay an even guinea
      We could find again to-morrow,
If we chose to go a-hunting in the morning.

A HUNTING MORNING

Put the saddle on the mare,
   For the wet winds blow;
There’s winter in the air,
   And autumn all below. 
For the red leaves are flying
And the red bracken dying,
And the red fox lying
   Where the oziers grow.

Put the bridle on the mare,
   For my blood runs chill;
And my heart, it is there,
   On the heather-tufted hill,
With the gray skies o’er us,
And the long-drawn chorus
Of a running pack before us
   From the find to the kill.

Then lead round the mare,
   For it’s time that we began,
And away with thought and care,
   Save to live and be a man,
While the keen air is blowing,
And the huntsman holloing,
And the black mare going
   As the black mare can.

THE OLD GRAY FOX

We started from the Valley Pride,
   And Farnham way we went. 
We waited at the cover-side,
   But never found a scent. 
Then we tried the withy beds
   Which grow by Frensham town,
And there we found the old gray fox,
      The same old fox,
      The game old fox;
Yes, there we found the old gray fox,
   Which lives on Hankley Down. 
         So here’s to the master,
         And here’s to the man! 
      And here’s to twenty couple
      Of the white and black and tan! 
   Here’s a find without a wait! 
   Here’s a hedge without a gate! 
   Here’s the man who follows straight,
      Where the old fox ran.

The Member rode his thoroughbred,
   Doctor had the gray,
The Soldier led on a roan red,
   The Sailor rode the bay. 
Squire was there on his Irish mare,
   And Parson on the brown;
And so we chased the old gray fox,
      The same old fox,
      The game old fox,
And so we chased the old gray fox
   Across the Hankley Down. 
         So here’s to the master,
         And here’s to the man!
            &c. &c. &c.

The Doctor’s gray was going strong
   Until she slipped and fell;
He had to keep his bed so long
   His patients all got well. 
The Member he had lost his seat,
   ’Twas carried by his horse;
And so we chased the old gray fox,
      The same old fox,
      The game old fox;
And so we chased the old gray fox
   That earthed in Hankley Gorse. 
         So here’s to the master,
         And here’s to the man!
            &c. &c. &c.