Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/46



Beam and rafter ring with laughter, eyes are glistening as before; Beyond all doubt the secret's out, for Katey is herself once more.

Hey down derry! ho down deny! what's the reason Kate's so merry? Powers above now, is it love now? it looks uncommon like it—ver-y!

The season is over! no more shall we hear The music of hounds, or the huntsman's glad cheer; No longer on wings of the breeze shall be borne The crack of the whip or a sound of the horn. Sly Reynard may now take his foraging prowl In search of a rabbit, a duck, or a fowl; Or, prompted by love, he may wander about, Without the least danger of being stopped out. The kennels, how altered! the flesh-pot is cold; The oatmeal, though clean, is by no means so old As that on which daily the pack had been mess'd; It is finer, yet cheaper, and has not been press'd; When made into paste (but perhaps I may wrong it), I fancied I saw some "mashed taters" among it.