The FOX-CHACE or the Huntsmans Harmony, by the
Noble Duke of Buckinghams Hounds, etc.
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ALL in a Morning fair,
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As I rode to take the Air,
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I heard some to hollow most clearly s
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I drew my self a near,
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To listen who they were.
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That were going a hunting so early.
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I saw they were some Gentlemen,
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Who belongd to th Duke of Buckingham,
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That were going to make their a Tryal;
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To run the Hounds oth North,
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Being of such Fame and Worth,
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England has not the like without all Denial.
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Then in Wreckledale Scogs,
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We threw off our Dogs
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In a Place where his lying was likely
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But the like ner was seen
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Since a Huntsman I have been,
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For no Hounds found a Fox more quickly.
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There was Dido and Spanker,
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And Yonker was there,
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And Ruler that neer looks behind him,
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There was Rose and Bonny Lass
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Who were always in the Chace;
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These were part oth Hounds that did find him
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Mr. Tybbals cries away,
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Heark away heark away,
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With that our Foot huntsmen did hear him
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Tom Mossman cries God sounds
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Uncouple all your Hounds
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Or else we shall never come near him.
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Then Caper and Countess,
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And Comely were thrown off,
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With Famous Thumper and Cryer.
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And several Hounds beside,
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Where there Stoutness there was tryd
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And not one in the Pack did tire.
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Our Hounds came in apace,
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And we fell into a Chace
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And thus we pursud the poor Creature,
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With English and French Horn
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We encouragd our Hounds that Morn
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An our Cry it was greater and greater
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It could not be exprest,
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Which Hound run the best,
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For they run on a Breast altogether;
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They run at such a Rate,
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As you have not heard of late,
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When they enjoyd him ith Vallies together
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Then to the Moor he wind
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Being clear against the Wind,
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Thinking he might have crossd it over,
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But our Hounds run so hard,
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They make this Fox afraid,
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And forcd him to turn to his Cover
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Up the Hills he runs along,
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And his Cover was full strong;
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But I think he had no great Ease ont,
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For they run with such a Cry,
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That their Ecchoes made him fly
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Ill assure you our sport twas pleasant.
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Then homeward he hies
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And in Wreckledale he lies,
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Thinking the Wind it might save him,
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But our Hounds ran him so near,
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That they posted him with fear,
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And our Horsemen they did deceive him.
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For Squire Whitcliff rode amain
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And he whipt it ore the Plain;
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Mr. Watson his Horse did not Favour,
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They rode up the highest Hills,
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And down the steepest Dales,
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Expecting his Life for their Labour.
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Mr. Tybbals rode his part,
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Although this Chace was smart;
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Default they were at seldom or never
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But every by and by
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To the Hounds he would cry
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Halloo halloo halloo altogether.
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Tom Messman he rode short
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Yet he helpt us in our Sport,
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For he came in cursing and Swearing
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Bur when twas in his Power,
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He cryd out Lilly Whore,
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Heark to Caperman now Slaughtermans near him
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Then to Skipland Wood he goes,
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Being pursud by his Foes,
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Th Company after him did follow,
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An unterpage there we had,
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Which made our Huntsmen all glad,
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For we gave him many a holloo.
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The Sport being almost done
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And the Chace being almost run
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He thought to have crossd the River
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But our Hounds being in
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They after him did swim,
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And so they destroyd him for ever.
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Then Leppin took a Horn,
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As good as eer was blown,
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Tom Mossman bid him Wind his Death then,
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The Country People all,
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Came flocking to his Fall
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This was Honour enough for a French Man.
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So Whoo-up we then proclaimd,
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God bless th Duke of Buchingham,
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For our Hounds then had gaind much Glory,
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This being the sixth Fox,
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That we killd above the Rocks;
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And there is an End of the Story.
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