A New
BALLAD,
Call'd the
Greenwich Hunting-Match.
To the Tune of Chevy-Chace.
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GOD prosper long our noble KING,
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And send him quickly o'er;
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And also keep young Chevalier,
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Still on the other Shore.
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And thou Apollo, God of Wit,
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Inspire me in this Case,
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Teach thou my Muse for to describe
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A matchless hunting Chase.
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Lurcher had singled out the Doe,
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In Drury Hundreds bred;
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From thence to Greenwich Town remov'd,
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And for the sport there fed.
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Meanwhile at Court Lord Gambol stay'd
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Serving the Church contrary;
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Where he new Schemes with Wildfire laid,
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To bring in Ave Mare.
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In three short Weeks or thereabouts,
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They wou'd have done it surely:
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All honest Men had been ture'd out,
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And James brought in most purely.
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But Pleasure that bewitching Ill,
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Oft makes great Things miscarry:
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So did it here with Wildfire Will,
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And eke with wise Lord Harry.
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To drive the Doe in Wreenwich Park.
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These Statesmen took their way:
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Oh Perkin thou hast cause to rue
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The Hunting of that Day.
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For Fate, that boded thee no Good,
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To Brumswick did incline;
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And gave a Staff when they were gone,
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Which spoil'd their close Design.
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This Hunting Match, as some do say,
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Was in the Month of July,
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These Heroes doft their Garments gay,
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Out of Good Manners truly:
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Becase the Doe stark naked ran,
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Naked as she was born,
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To take the Advantage of their Cloaths,
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They held it muckle Scorn.
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Thus ran these fierce twoo Footed Hounds,
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Than those of Four more fell,
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And with full Cry pursu'd the Doe,
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As Fame doth loudly tell.
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Brisk Gambol was the prittiest Dog,
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For speed, and eke for Hollow,
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And many Mile upon the Scent,
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He eagerly did follow.
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But when the panting Doe lay down,
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Yielding herself to prey;
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Unable he the Chase to Crown,
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Another took the Say.
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O Gambol Change this Course of Life,
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No more be lew'd, and teaze:
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Go Home, drink Tea with thy own Wife,
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Thou'st lost the Power to please.
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