Dick, it's late here and I wanted to go home and that first post was rather a wish not to type any more line today than a serious question, but you were so quick that I cannot but respond now.

Drink, Puppy, drink
(G.J. Whyte-Melville)

Here's to the fox in the earth below the rocks
and here's to the line that we follow,
and here's to the hound with his nose upon the ground,
tho' merrily we whoop and we holloa!

Chorus: Then drink, puppy, drink,
and let ev'ry puppy drink,
that is old enough to lap and to swallow;
for he'll grow into a hound,
so we'll pass the bottle 'round,
and merrily we'll whoop and we'll holloa.

Here's to the horse and to the rider too, of course,
and here's to the rally o' the hunt, boys;
Here's a health to every friend, who can struggle to the end,
and here's to the Tally-ho in front, boys.

Here's to the gap and the timber that we rap,
here's to the white thorn, and the black, too;
And here's to the pace that puts life into the chase,
and the fence that gives a moment to the pack, too.

Oh! The pack is staunch and true, now they run from scent to view,
and it's worth the risk to life and limb and neck, boys;
to see them drive and stoop till they finish with 'Who-whoop',
forty minutes on the grass without a check, boys.

Wolfgang