The Ballad of the Foxhunter

Lay me in a cushioned chair

Carry me, ye four

With cushions here and there

To see the world once more

To stable and kennel go

Bring what there's to bring

Lead my Lollard to and fro

Or gently in a ring

Put the chair upon the grass

Bring Rody and his hounds

That I may contented pass

From these earthly bounds

His eyelids, they droop

Eyes cloud with dreams

The sun up upon all things that grow

Falls in sleepy dreams

Huntsman, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

Loosen on the morn a gay wandering cry

Rody, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

I cannot blow my horn, but only weep and sigh

Lollard treads upon the lawn

And to the armchair goes

The old man's dreams are gone

He smoothes the long, brown nose

Moves a pleasant tongue

Upon his wasted hands

Aged hounds and young

The huntsman near him stands

Huntsman, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

Loosen on the morn a gay wandering cry

Rody, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

I cannot blow my horn, but only weep and sigh

'Round his cushioned place

With new sorrow wrung

Hounds gazing on his face

Aged hounds and young

Fire is in the old's eyes

His fingers move and sway

Wandering music dies

You hear him feebly say

Huntsman, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

Loosen on the morn a gay wandering cry

Rody, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

I cannot blow my horn, but only weep and sigh

Huntsman, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

Loosen on the morn a gay wandering cry

Rody, blow the horn, come make the hills reply

I cannot blow my horn, but only weep and sigh

The blind hound with a mournful cry

Slowly lifts his head

They bear the body in

The hounds wail for the dead

The hounds wail for the dead

Wail for the dead