Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (1st ed.).djvu/50

 

The black dog is leading the blue dog a nose;
She makes for the spinney—my heart, how she goes:
The black dog, a thousand! a-done, sir—a-done!
He has her! he hasn't! my soul, what a run!
Singing, gently, so ho! halloo! let 'em go;
Poor "pussy" in each has a death-meaning foe.

They're getting the slows on, they're all of them beat,
It's rarely a sportsman enjoys such a treat;
Now, Topper! now, Bugle! they'll kill her!—they won'nt;
They have her!—they haven't!—she beats 'em!—she do'nt!
Singing, gently, so ho! halloo! let 'em go;
I ne'er saw better mettle, than all the three show.

See, the Judge takes his hat off, and gets from his horse,
And so, undecided's this wonderful course;
They've managed to kill her; but no man can tell
Which won it, they both ran so honest and well!
Singing, gently, so ho! halloo! let 'em go,
To see such another, I'd fifty miles go!