In seventeen hundred and forty-four,|
The fifth of December, I think 'twas no more,
At five in the morning, by most of the clocks,
We rode from Kilruddery in search of a fox.
The Loughlinstown landlord, the brave Owen Bray,
And Johnny Adair, too, were with us that day;
Joe Debil, Hal Preston, those huntsmen so stout
Dick Holmes, some few others, and so we set out.
We cast off our hounds for an hour or more,
When Wanton set up a most tuneable roar;
'Hark, Wanton,' cried Joe, and the rest were not slack;
For Wanton's no trifler esteemed by the pack;
Old Bounty and Collier came readily in,
And every hound joined in the musical din:
Had Diana been there, she'd been pleased to the life,
And one of the lads got a goddess to wife.
Ten minutes past nine was the time of the day
When Reynard broke cover, and this was his way -
As strong from Killegar, as if he could fear none,
Away he brush'd round by the house of Kilternan,
To Carrickmines thence, and to Cherrywood then,
Steep Shankhill he climbed, and to Ballyman glen,
Bray Common he crossed, leap'd Lord Anglesey's wall,
And seemed to say, 'Little I care for you all.'
He ran Bushes Grove up to Carbury Byrnes -
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