Classic Poem

What a fine hunting day, it's as balmy as May,
When the hounds to our village did come.
Every friend will be there and all trouble and care
Will be left far behind them at home.
See servants on steeds on their way
And sportsmen in scarlet display.
Let us join the glad throng that goes laughing along,
And we'll all go a-hunting today.

So we'll all go a-hunting today,
All nature looks smiling and gay.
Let us join the glad throng that goes laughing along,
And we'll all go a-hunting today.

Farmer Hodge to his dame says ‘I'm sixty and lame,
Times are hard, yet my rent I must pay;
But I don't care a jot if I raise it or not,
For I must go a-hunting today.
There's a fox in the spinney, they say,
We'll find him and have him away;
I'll be the first in the rush and I'll ride for his brush,
For I must go a-hunting today.’

As the judge sits in court he gets wind of the sport
And he calls for the court to adjourn,
As no witness had come and there's none left at home—
They have gone with the hounds and the horn.
Says he, ‘Heavy fines you must pay
If you will not your summons obey;
But it's very fine sport so we'll wind up the court,
And we'll all go a-hunting today.’

And the village bells chime, there's a wedding at nine,
When the parson unites the fond pair.
When he heard the sweet sound of the horn and the hound,
And he knew it was time to be there,
Says he, ‘For your welfare I pray,
I regret I no longer can stay;
You've been safely made one, we must quickly be gone,
For we must go a-hunting today.’

None were left in the lurch for all friends were at church
With beadle and clerk, aye and all;
All determined to go and to shout ‘Tallyho’,
And the ringers all joined in the rear.
With bride and bridegroom in array
They one to the other did say,
‘Let us join the glad throng that goes laughing along,
And we'll all go a-hunting today.’

There's the doctor in boots to a breakfast that suits
Of home-brewed ale and good beef.
To his patients in pain says, ‘I've come once again
To consult you in hope of relief.’
To the poor his advice he gave way,
And the rich he prescribed them to pay,
But to each one he said, ‘You will quickly be dead
If you don't go a-hunting today.’

And there's only one cure for a malady, sure,
Which reaches the heart to adjure.
It's the sound of a horn on a fine hunting morn,
And where is the heart wishing more?
For it turneth the grave into gay,
Makes pain into pleasure give way,
Makes the old become young and the weak become strong,
If they'll all go a-hunting today.