Classic Poem

Three huntsmen set out with their guns one day,
The milk-white hart they would hunt and slay.

They laid them to rest 'neath a fir-tree tall;
A wonderful vision had each and all.

First Huntsman.

I dreamt, as I beat at the brushwood thick,
Out rushed the white hart in hot haste — quick! quick!

Second Huntsman.

As off, followed close by the hounds, he sprang,
I scorched him well on the hide — bang! bang!

Third Huntsman.

And when he lay on the earth, ha! ha!
I lustily blew on the horn, trara!

While thus they lay and conversed, these three,
The white hart rustled hard by, scot-free;

For ere the three hunters had seen him aright,
Away was he gone over dale and height!
Quick! quick! bang! bang! trara!