Another broadside version:

Sly Reynard the Fox

Some gentlemen take great delight,
In hunting bold Reynard the fox,
Near yon stoney common he liv'd,
And fed upon fat geese and ducks.

He fed upon all the good things,
Not thinking how soon he should die,
But was chas'd by a pack of fresh hounds,
And forc'd from the country to fly.

Through the wild country he rambled,
And liv'd at an extravagant rate;
Young lambs he pick'd up for his living,
The farmers they all did him hate.

The lord for the king's hounds did send,
Jerry Bilson did swear he should die,
But he left two brothers behind him,
That lov'd young lambs better than he.

Through the wild country he ran,
The blood thirsty hounds did him follow,
It made his old coat stand an end,
To hear how the huntsmen did hollow.

Ofttimes has he been surprised,
By dogs that could run like a cow,
But of all the times of his life,
He ne'er got a breathing till now.

Forty-five miles he ran them,
And that in five hours' space,
O pardon, dear huntsmen and hounds,
By this fatal wound he will die.

In the stoney fields they kill'd him,
There he was forc'd to die
The hounds tore him all to pieces,
They made his old coat for to fly.

Since they bold Reynard have kill'd,
They may go to the Dolphin and dine,
And put his foot in a full bumper,
So drink your lord's health in good wine.

[between title and text:] Printed for W. Armstrong, Banastre-street.
Bodly Ballads: Harding B 28(261); between 1820 and 1824.
On same page: Admiral Benbow