Twine weel the plaiden (1)/The Deer Hunter

the deer hunter.

Hark away ‘tis the merry ton’d horn,
Calls the hunters all up with the morn,
To the hills and the woodlands we steer,
To unharbour the out-lying deer.
And all the day long this is our song,
This is our song,
Still hollowing & following so frolic and free
Our joys know no bounds,
While we’re after the hounds,
No mortals on earth are so jolly as we.

Round the woods when we beat how we glow
While the hills they all echo Hollow !
With a bounce from his cover the stag flies,
Then our shouts long resound through the skies
And all the day long, &c.

When we sweep o’er the valleys or climb
Up the health breaking mountain sublime,
What a joy from our labours we feel,
Which alone they who taste can reveal,
And all the day long, &c.