Hunting Poetry

Tall Tales and a Hunt Breakfast

Posted on Friday, October 21, 2022
Written by: Baily's HD RE Egerton- Warburton 1874

In this comic narrative poem, the author RE Egerton-Warburton sits and listens to the tall tales from a group of hunting friends before and after a day with hounds.   Four friends, all scarlet-coated, Eager all to join the pack, At the breakfast board were seated, Jem and Jerry, Ned and Jack. Giant Jem, a...

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My Old Horn

Posted on Monday, October 17, 2022
Written by: Baily's HD Author Unknown

A huntsman musing on his old worn hunting horn and the exploits they shared ‘Though toil hath somewhat worn thy frame And time hath marred thy beauty ; Come forth, lone relic of my fame, Thou well hast done thy duty. Time was when other tongues would praise Thy wavering notes of pleasure ; Now,...

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The View that Beats them All

Posted on Sunday, October 16, 2022
Written by: GP Williams, Christchurch N.Z.

COME ! Say what is the fairest sight­. The sweetest view! Come! Tell what makes your chief delight, And I’ll tell you The artist loves to paint of scenes That suit his brush; I wish not for the views he means, Nor care a rush. The brush he wields to ply his art May prove...

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With Hounds

Posted on Sunday, October 9, 2022
Written by: Author Unknown -From 1871 Baily's

The fox has fairly broke away, The joyous wood resounds, And crashing timbers yield to him Who rides beside the hounds. Stout fences are as wattled stakes Steep hills become as mounds While fickle fortune stands by him Who rides up close to hounds. Oh merry race to gain a place Oh pleasure where thy...

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My Old Horse and I

Posted on Friday, October 7, 2022
Written by: From Baily's Sports and Pastimes 1891 Written by CTM

Yes, that is the one! The old brown in the box! There may be as good; but a better’s not bred. Pure in blood, strong of bone, and as game as a fox! Has a heart like a. lion’s; and brains in his head. Too big is no country, too long is no run! He...

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The Mausoleum at Tedworth

Posted on Wednesday, September 21, 2022
Written by: W Philpott Williams
Hunt:

NB Although this poem was written for Thomas Assheton Smith its verses, particularly the final one, though written a century ago,  might suit anyone looking for suitable words in memory of a hunting friend.       Down in the park by the scene of his calling Assheton Smith lies near the whispering trees Under...

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Music of the Pack

Posted on Sunday, September 18, 2022
Written by: Teviotdale 1896

They tell me I’m not musical, they blame my want of ear For symphonies and harmonies; they say ’tis rather queer That a man of my attainments ” is as devoid of toon As a Leicester-Square grimalkin or American Racoon.” But listen to me while I tell-I’ve told it all along- What wild mad music...

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November

Posted on Saturday, September 17, 2022
Written by: W Phillpotts Williams.

WELCOME the chase, with its balmy November Welcome the colours of scarlet and grey! Welcome the friends that we meet and remember, Year after year, on the opening day! Blame me not, reader, nor say I’m romancing : Phantom-shaped horsemen I seem to discern, Riding among the gay squadrons advancing, Each one equipped for the...

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20th Century Fox

Posted on Tuesday, July 12, 2022
Written by: Christopher Curtis

They call me Charles James (and a few other names….) Such as Reynard and Charlie the Fox. I’m a glutton for hens and for turkeys in pens And a worry to men who tend flocks. People cut quite a dash and they pay out good cash When it’s me that they’re huntin’ y’know. I’m a...

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A Favourite

Posted on Sunday, July 10, 2022
Written by: R.C 1900

Ahh!, how I miss him where the trees That fringe the gorse are softly dripping, Sore-hearted as I feel my knees The flanks of his successor gripping: His gleaming heels no more, alas, Shall leave the straggling field behind him; No more across a stretch of grass The fastest run unbeaten find him. For he...

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