The fox he runs through forest glade
His only hope, his life to save
And prays his flight won’t be betrayed
To the hounds that lead the guns
The noble hunter, of fine seed
Rides through forest, brush, and weed
Urging on his mighty steed
In the Royal Sporting Hunts
The hunter and the hunted hear
The bugle’s cry, both far and near
Sounding out its haunting jeer
To help locate the prey
Yet, clever is the fox you see
And faster than the hound, is he
But somehow this still troubles me
The chase the fox this way
To kill that creature is the aim
The reasons seem to me too lame
To justify this silly game
Pursued by silly few
But on it goes, yes, on and on
The fox forever on the run
And when it ends it’s just begun
For the hunt will start anew
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