I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires.
I can fish — but Hobden tickles
— I can shoot — but Hobden wires.
I repair, but he reopens, certain gaps which, men allege,
Have been used by every Hobden since a Hobden swapped a hedge.
Shall I dog his morning progress o'er the track-betraying dew?
Demand his dinner-basket into which my pheasant flew?
Confiscate his evening faggot under which my conies ran,
And summons him to judgment? I would sooner summons Pan.
His dead are in the churchyard — thirty generations laid.
Their names were old in history when Domesday Book was made;
And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line
Have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the Law calls mine.
Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies,
Would I lose his large sound counsel, miss his keen amending eyes.
He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer,
And if flagrantly a poacher — 'tain't for me to interfere.
I can fish — but Hobden tickles
— I can shoot — but Hobden wires. I repair, but he reopens, certain gaps which, men allege,
Have been used by every Hobden since a Hobden swapped a hedge.
Shall I dog his morning progress o'er the track-betraying dew?
Demand his dinner-basket into which my pheasant flew?
Confiscate his evening faggot
under which my conies ran, And summons him to judgment? I would sooner summons Pan.
His dead are in the churchyard — thirty generations laid.
Their names were old in history when Domesday Book was made;
And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line
Have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the Law calls mine.
Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies,
Would I lose his large sound counsel, miss his keen amending eyes.
He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer,
And if flagrantly a poacher — 'tain't for me to interfere.
Music
In Harold's time the hunt was fine and the birds did sweetly sing,
Then the Bastard came and all the game became the right of the King.
But English lads saw sport to be had and swift to poaching turned,
So in that way have we e'en today our pleasant supper earned!
One for the partridge, two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe,
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow!
One for the partridge, two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe,
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow!
Seeking deer or hare in the greenwoods fair, the King's own men do ride,
But we Saxons few are a-hunting too though cleverly we hide!
Time and again come the sheriff's men chasing poachers 'round the shire,
But our prey we've shot and we'll not get caught as we feast around our fire!
Then the Bastard came and all the game became the right of the King.
But English lads saw sport to be had and swift to poaching turned,
So in that way have we e'en today our pleasant supper earned!
One for the partridge, two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe,
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow!
One for the partridge, two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe,
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow!
Seeking deer or hare in the greenwoods fair, the King's own men do ride,
But we Saxons few are a-hunting too though cleverly we hide!
Time and again come the sheriff's men chasing poachers 'round the shire,
But our prey we've shot and we'll not get caught as we feast around our fire!
