The Hounds – author unkown

The Hounds

A dog, d’you see is always a dog

And a dog’s the one man Jack,

But twenty couple of hounds can jog

To the twelve hoof slung click-clack;

Is a dog in the street a sight to see?

But, your penny against my pounds,

You’ll jump to the window, just like me

If somebody says, “The Hounds!”

Under a wet sky’s somber arch

All in the morning grey

Scarlet bobs and the staid hounds march,

And butterfly-bright march they;

Silver, sable and golden tan,

Here is the stately show,

And part of the heart of an Englishman,

Here are The Hounds that go.

Out of the wood a shadow ran,

Brown as a blown oak-leaf;

That was the way the game began,

That was the World’s Worst Thief;

Cucumber cool a fox slips through

And he isn’t concerned a crumb,

But this is the way that he went (says you)

And here are The Hounds that come.


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