THE BEAGLE INN

There is joy on a fine wintery morning
In hunting through meadow and wood
Though old Skiddaw has got a snow mantle
And Derwent is roaring, is roaring in flood
As the game little beagles are questing,
The pleasures of hunting begin,
When the view-halloa sounds, away dash the hounds,
Full cry past the old Beagle Inn.

CHORUS:
Forret ho! Hark away! Over Moota,
Through bracken, through heather and whin,
Down tatie-pot lane we all make again
For our feast at the old Beagle Inn,
Tally ho! For our feast at the old Beagle Inn.

From dawn until dusk we have hunted
From Threapland to Isel and back,
And as now we have called off the beauties
Old Bob winds the horn, winds the horn for his pack.
And with appetites whetted with fasting,
We long for the feast to begin
There's dinner galore and prime whisky in store
For our friends at the old Beagle Inn.

CHORUS

We toast the King, Queen and the army
And the navy with three times three,
Then we drink to the rare "Tenant Farmers"
Who are just the best sort, the best sort that can be.
And we drink "Here's long life to the master"
Till the rafters ring with the din,
But ever the toast that is honoured the most
Is "Success to the old Beagle Inn"

CHORUS

We have Melody, Magic and Music,
Bellman, Bowler and Bounty as well
In the gamest and best pack of beagles
That ever faced field or flood or fell
Here's a health then to all jolly sportsmen
Who follow fur, feather or fin,
A welcome they'll find, true, hearty and kind
At our meet at the old Beagle Inn.

Chorus

Words: John Bolton; Music: Rev Jas Gallie M.A. ©1904.

As transcribed from a printed copy of the song owned by friends of mine. The place names locate it in the north-west corner of the English Lake District in the old county of Cumberland.

I think it dates from the early years of the last century, hence the toast to the king, (Edward VII) Queen (Alexandra) army and navy- predating the air force.