  This ballad, one of the most popular of our hunting songs, relates to the noble old Derbyshire family of Vernon, in olden times of Haddon Hall, but for several generations of Sudbury Hall, in the same county, which family is now represented by the Right Hon. Lord Vernon, whose seat Sudbury Hall is. "Squire One morning last winter to Shirley Park A noble brave Sportsman George Vernon by name Resolved over hedges and ditches to fly, Came a hunting the Fox—bold Reynard must die. It was early in the morning before it was light, Where a great many Gentlemen appointed to meet, To meet 'Squire Vernon of honour and fame, His Hounds they bring glory and honour to his name. Hoke cross him and wind him: Tom Mullins he cry'd, I warrant we shall unkennel him by the South side, Let us draw to the cover that lies on the South, Bold Reynard lies there, Trouler doubles his Mouth. Cries, loo, hark to Trouler that never fails, Do you hear how young Snowball does challenge the train There are Fowler and Royal two brave hounds, Hark, rogues, together, while Juno comes in, There's Lady and Lambert likewise little Trim, There's Pleasant and Careless, a bitch that runs fleet, But loo, hark to little Justice, for she sets you to right. There is Jovial and Frolick, and Vigour besides, There is Dido the best bitch that ever was try'd, There is Tospot and Bumper and Virgin I say, There is fifty-four couple that run every day. Mr. Walker then over the cover did stand, He hollow'd most clearly with horn in his hand, Cries, loo, hark together, we'll storm Reynard's fort, And if cover he breaks, we'll tear his old coat. Loo, hark rogues together, the scent it lies warm, Mr. Walker and Tom Mullins both concert with horn, Tantwivee, tantwivee, the horn they did sound, They alarmed the country for above a mile round. Tom Mullins the huntsman his whip he did crack, Cries, loo, hark to little Careless, that leedeth the pack, These words made Jack Wooley, that was whipper in, To hollow most clearly, loo, hark rogues, hark in. The hounds they did rally and flourish about, Bold Reynard broke cover, Tom Mullins did shout, Over Wheyersome Then for Blakeley Oldhurst but the door was stop'd there Then bold Reynard was forc'd to take Staffordshire, Then he crossed the river Dove I declare, And straight for Durintwoods, for great cover was there. But the hounds they pursu'd him so hot in the chace, Which Reynard perceiving would not take the place, Then he took Weaver hill, To hear the wood echo, and the College hall ring. Tom Mullins was mounted on a trusty bay, Over hedges and ditches the devil would play, Up rocks and high mountains so merrily did climb, Cries, hark to little Careless she runs him like wind. Then for the New Buildings away he did steer, I thought we should run him all round Staffordshire, But we briskly pursu'd him with Hound and with Horn, And we forced him back again by the Tyth Barn. 'Squire Vernon was mounted upon Golden Dun, He leaped with courage and like fury did run, Mr. Walker was on a gelding so free, He maintained the Chace and kept him company. 'Squire Vernon's a Sportsman 'tis very well known, He rid swiftly all day, you'd have thought he had flown, 'Squire Brown rid a gelding that run very fleet, 'Squire Boothby of Ashbourn Expecting every minute bold Reynard was slain, He rid with great courage all the day through, He was rarely well mounted upon his True Blue. Mr. Boothby of Bradford who never was cast, But in all the whole course he rallied at last, Mr. Gretion, of Langford, He was rarely well mounted on Tearing Robin. Mr. Walker did hollow cry'd sentence is past, Here is Trouler and Snowball puts up at the last, Come, Gentlemen, ride, for the game is our own, Now the old hounds puts up I find Reynard is blown. The Sportsmen they rid at a desperate rate, As if they had run for a Thousand pound plate, No hedges could turn them, nor wall could them set, For the choicest of Sportsmen in England were met. The hounds they did rally and briskly pursue, Do you hear little Careless, she runs him in view, Fifty miles in four hours which is a great ride. And for Jack Wooley we'll not him forget, He rid with great courage and ne'er fear'd his neck, No hedges or walls could turn him again, He came in that same minute that Reynard was slain. The Sportsmen came in every one at the last, The hounds they run briskly not one that was cast, Let's Ring Reynard's farewell with a horn that sounds clear You've not heard such an hollow this hundred year. All pastime in hunting here doth command, There's the Otter by water the Deer upon land, Here hunting is pleasant the Stag's noble Chace, To the animal Reynard all ought to give place. Come Gentlemen Sportsmen, where'er you be, All you that love hunting draw near unto me, The Chace is now ended, you've heard Reynards fall, So here's a health to 'Squire Vernon of Sidbury Hall. |
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