A Hunting Song Poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon
A Hunting Song
Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord,
If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford;
And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue,
If he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly, too.
He cares not for the bubbles of Fortune's fickle tide,
Who like Bendigo can battle, and like Olliver can ride.
He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide he'll frown,
As he clears a five-foot paling, or he knocks a peeler down.
The dull, cold world may blame us, boys! but what care we the while,
If coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile?
For beauty's fond caresses can most tenderly repay
The weariness and trouble of many an anxious day.
Then fill your glass, and drain it, too, with all your heart and soul,
To the best of sports — The Fox-hunt, The Fair Ones, and The Bowl,
To a stout heart in adversity through every ill to steer,
And when Fortune smiles a score of friends like those around us here
If bis heart be true! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Such an interesting poem coming from way way back👍👍👍
The dull, cold world may blame us, boys! but what care we the while, If coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile? For beauty's fond caresses can most tenderly repay The weariness and trouble of many an anxious day. Nice poem. 10
Then fill your glass, and drain it, too, with all your heart and soul, To the best of sports A nice line from the lovely poem. Thanks for the sharing. 10
It sounds like the privileged and insulated gentility clapping themselves on the back and trying to sound generous and egalitarian at the same time. In praise of the fox hunt? C'mon. This is classist balderdash. Even in its own day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/25/2024 8:40:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I can just hear the hunters gathered around the evening table quaffing their rum and telling their tales and singing this song. This poet's verses live!