Hunting Poetry

In 1948 two of the Ullswater Hunt terriers, Badger and Butcher, were imprisoned in a borran high above Brothers Water. After a major rescue session in bitter weather, involving the use of explosive, one terrier was rescued alive after a few days and the body of his companion was recovered some days later. This next...

You’ll have seen me, I know When you visit Aunt Flo. I’m the funny old thing who’s just gazing. ‘She’s no trouble,’ they say, ‘Sits there smiling all day! And she loves to watch Channel 4 Racing.’ What these nurses don’t know Is the places I go In my head, when life here seems too...

Hark! Old horse. Please meet me at the gate. Hounds are leaving kennels soon, And we will not be late. Step up. Old horse. Carry me to the meet. Our years together count for much, Though you’re no longer fleet. Trot on. Old horse. I know you hear the horn. The hounds are in the...

There are verses galore about great hunts of yore And those gallants who gallop in front, So I think it’s absurd that there’s hardly a word About us at the back of the hunt. For remember, you thrusters, fence, hedge and wall busters, Though the fences you jump may be higher, We arrive at the...

What beats awakening, on a fresh hunting morn? Eating cooked breakfast, before early dawn Questioning your fate, on the approaching ride And the sound of your horse, being led outside. What excites more, than dressing in red? Or is it really pink, as is so often said Strapping on spurs and curling up whip Filling...

‘Look out on the lawn’, great-grandchild, And clap your wee hands with fun; Blow a kiss to the field, my darling, And wish them a glorious run.   Some day you shall follow the music, With a low light hand on the rein; Aye, aye, you’ll keep close to the beauties, For you come of...

Foxhunting’s our sport And we’ll all have more fun If we each know beforehand What’s “being done.” Let’s all be dressed in proper attire So that our hunt field will be one to admire And girls – hair nets please – your flowing tresses Are not for hunting – but for party dresses. Don’t arrive...

[These lines are dedicated to an old and very favourite hunter whose work is done. They are supposed to be a conversation overheard between him and a stable companion. He carried me brilliantly for many seasons, and never hurt a hair of my head. – J. H. W.] (taken from Bailys 1895)   What made...

This poem written by Teviotdale is annotated  ‘to Mr C Craig’  and appeared in Bailys Sports & Pastimes  May 1895. There are a few geographic clues to the hunt concerned taking place in the Scottish Borders with references to Minto Kamaes and Hassendean but we cannot with any confidence attribute it to a particular pack....

I’LL tell you a yarn of the vale we crossed When hounds were running a scent breast-high ; When the hunt was weeded, the skirters lost, And turf like water was fleeting by. There were hardly ten of our hardest men Could hope to live on the line they took ; And out of the...