Hunting Poetry

We don’t turn out in scarlet, We are more at home in tweeds; We have no aristocratic hounds Or blood three figure steeds: Our home is in the up-lands Where the Great Creator spills His richest browns and purples On our everlasting hills   Our pack’s no beauty chorus Bred to win in show-ring class...

The huntsman drove up to our gate.. “I’ve brought you these..” he said, “This one has been rather ill, and messed on that one’s head!” I tried to look delighted, as any new mum should, but the smell of sick, and other things, had somewhat spoiled the mood! A gorgeous pair of tiny dogs had...

I went to his cottage and found him reclining, Propped up in chair, he was feeble and grey. The sun had gone down, and the day was declining, The mists from the meadows fell white by the way. He welcomed a sportsman, he told me, and bade me Sit down by his side while he...

These anonymous verses come from Great Days Two our new book published July 2018 They’ve left me in kennel for many a morning, Just lately, when drawing the pack for the day, They surely can’t think that I’m out of the running We meet twice a week from September to May. Why, it seems only...

Come, I’ll show you a country that none can surpass, For a flyer to cross like a bird on the wing, We have acres of woodland and oceans of grass, We have game in the autumn and cubs in the spring, We have scores of good fellows hang out in the shire But the best...

Hunters are fretting, and hacks in a lather, Sportsmen arriving from left and from right; Bridle-roads bringing them, see how they gather, Dotting the meadows in scarlet and white. Foot-people staring and horsemen preparing, Now there’s a murmur, astir, and a shout, Fresh from his carriage, as bridegroom in marriage, The Lord of the Valley...

Go strip him, lad! Now, sir, I think you’ll declare Such a picture you never set eyes on before. He was bought in at Tatt’s for three hundred I swear, And he’s worth all the money to look at, and more; For the pick of the basket, the show of the shop, Is the Clipper...

Oh! once I believed in a woman’s kiss, I had faith in a flattering tongue, For lip to lip was a promise of bliss, When lips were smooth and young. But now the beard is grey on my cheek, And the top of my head gets bare, So little I speak, like an Arab sheikh,...

” A Master will be required … ” It lies In cold print now, before my eyes. Finance! -that curse of more than one Keen fellow, when all’s said and done. So I must turn my back at last On happy hunting days … The past No one on earth can take from me. For...

An anonymous and amusing take on beagling!   A merry sight the beaglers are, With hounds and huntsman ranging far. The woods and hills throw back the sounds Of horn and music of the hounds when beagling.   To follow hounds and hunt the hare Of feet you only need a pair. Their age no...