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Charles Kingsley - The Find
Work rating: Low

Yon sound`s neither sheep-bell nor bark,
They`re running—they`re running, Go hark!
The sport may be lost by a moment`s delay;
So whip up the puppies and scurry away.
Dash down through the cover by dingle and dell,
There`s a gate at the bottom—I know it full well;
And they`re running—they`re running,
Go hark!

They`re running—they`re running, Go hark!
One fence and we`re out of the park;
Sit down in your saddles and race at the brook,
Then smash at the bullfinch; no time for a look;
Leave cravens and skirters to dangle behind;
He`s away for the moors in the teeth of the wind,
And they`re running—they`re running,
Go hark!

They`re running—they`re running, Go hark!
Let them run on and run till it`s dark!
Well with them we are, and well with them we`ll be,
While there`s wind in our horses and daylight to see:
Then shog along homeward, chat over the fight,
And hear in our dreams the sweet music all night
Of—They`re running—they`re running,
Go hark!

Eversley, 1856.
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