Page:A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer (3rd ed.).djvu/81



To rise and to whistle, and like mad For the sheepdog and Pincher, and order the lad To run and get round him—quite proper to do; But the swine had got four legs, the lad had but two— Was the work of a moment, every dog in the place, Men, women, and children, all join in the race; There was plenty of racket, as you may expect. But the pace was severe, and the "field" got select— The "Snieder" has cut it, the "Cobbler," his friend, With Miss Marklew's fat footman, have "bellows to mend." First Flightmen alone had a chance it was clear, And they had to play all they knew to keep near. This prince of all pigmeat full two miles had gone, Yet still full of running, his course he held on; The pig, through the open, scuds on like the wind, Leaving "Welters" and "Craners" and "slow-uns" behind. Hold hard! there's a check! but not long did it last, He's viewed in the orchard, the fatal die's cast— A mastiff of Haydon's had chanced to be loose, Which rendered his dodging and game of no use; He pursues and o'ertakes him, and into a ditch, Knocked him head over heels, when a broken-haired bitch Of Ratcatcher Roden's led on the gay pack, With murderous intent, on the poor porker's track; Oh, had you but heard how they made the place ring. As though "Hullah" had tutored each canine to sing, Till they came to the worry, when sad to relate, They "settled his hash" against Latimer's gate. Myself and two others, Joe Brigg's and his friend, Were all that unluckily witnessed the end;