They're running like wildfire; the black dog's a turn:
Now the blue un's a go-by—she's off for the fern;
He has thrown, and has miss'd her; the black dog is in;
He's a mortal good judge that can tell which will win.
Singing gently, &c.
The black dog is leading the blue dog a nose;
She makes for the spinney—my heart, how she goes:
The black dog, a thousand! A-done, sir—a-done!
He has her! he hasn't! my soul, what a run!
Singing gently, &c.
They're getting the slows on, they're all of them beat,
It's rarely a sportsman enjoys such a treat;
Now, Topper! now, Bugle! they'll kill her!—they won't;
They have her!—they haven't!—she beats 'em!—she don't!
Singing gently, &c.
See, the Judge takes his hat off, and gets from his horse,
And so, undecided's this wonderful course;
They've managed to kill her; but no man can tell
Which won it, they both ran so honest and well!
Singing gently, &c.
Come, fill up your glasses, whatever you drink,
(I shall hold him a "muff" who endeavours to slink,)
Here's success to the "long tails," their owners, and all,
Who are fond of the sport, whether great folks or small.
Singing gently, &c.
Hyrocrisy is a masquerade dress lent by the devil, which will be expected to be personally returned by the wearer.
