Hunting Poetry

A Smart Young Fox

Posted on Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Written by: Provided by Sean Turnbull- Author unknown

A smart young fox sat airing his view in Dingly Dell one night, I’m glad to see that human folk at last set things aright,  Abolish all blood sports they say, and down with hunting men!! What rubbish are you quoting? Said an old grey fox just then. Young man, I’m old and grey I...

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The Huntsman’s Horse

Posted on
Written by: Edric Roberts

The huntsman’s horse, whether brown or bay, or brightest chestnut, or sober grey, whate’er his colour, a hunting day is all the same to him, come what may. When other horses, too full of beans, unship their riders by artful means, or kick each other to smithereens, he takes no part in such ugly scenes....

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The Hillmen

Posted on Saturday, May 25, 2019
Written by: Stanislaus Lynch

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...

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Ode to the First Time Puppy Walker

Posted on Wednesday, April 3, 2019
Written by: Tanya Woodhead MH

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...

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An Interview with an Old Huntsman

Posted on Wednesday, April 25, 2018
Written by: Peter Brook

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...

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The Lament of an Old Hound.

Posted on
Written by: Peter Brook

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...

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The Galloping Squire

Posted on Friday, April 13, 2018
Written by: George Whyte-Melville

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...

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The Lord of the Valley

Posted on
Written by: George Whyte-Melville

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...

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The Clipper that Stands in the Stall at the Top

Posted on
Written by: G Whyte -Mellville

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...

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The Old Grey Mare

Posted on
Written by: G Whyte-Melville

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,...

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