Hunting Song

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <h2> A Hunting Song </h2> <p> Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord,<br/> If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford;<br/> And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue,<br/> If he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly, too.<br/> <br/> He cares not for the bubbles of Fortune's fickle tide,<br/> Who like Bendigo can battle, and like Olliver can ride.<br/> He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide he'll frown,<br/> As he clears a five-foot paling, or he knocks a peeler down.<br/> <br/> The dull, cold world may blame us, boys! but what care we the while,<br/> If coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile?<br/> For beauty's fond caresses can most tenderly repay<br/> The weariness and trouble of many an anxious day.<br/> <br/> Then fill your glass, and drain it, too, with all your heart and soul,<br/> To the best of sports&mdash;The Fox-hunt, The Fair Ones, and The Bowl,<br/> To a stout heart in adversity through every ill to steer,<br/> And when Fortune smiles a score of friends like those around us here.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />