Classic Poem

1

The woods are all colours and bright is the sun
 The scent will lie strong on the fallows at morn
Hark-away to the field for the hunt has begun
 Do'nt you hear the whip crack and the sound of the horn
The skies are ash coloured the fallows are brown
 The red coated hunters are galloping by
And in the bleached woods at the end of the town
Horses caper, and dogs make a terrible cry.

2

Hark-away to the noise there is health in the sound
 The woods are as still as the ships in a bay
You hear the shrill whine of the favourite hound
 That will track him, and harrass him all the long day
Hark-away to the woods, hark-away do but look
 The fox has broke cover, and by the bent [spray]
Drops his tail but a moment, to lap at the brook
Then flies o'er the red russet fallows away.

3

The woods as if painted in all colours shine
 In brown's red and yellows the finest of scenes
The woods and the hedges look more than divine
 Like paintings hung out in the beautiful greens
The cry of the hounds in the wild flurried sky
 The sun crackles sweet on the stubbles so gray
'Tis the birthday of nature the foxhunters joy
So away to the fields, hark, forward, away—