〈◊〉 ●OX CHACE OR THE Huntsman's Harmony; BY THE 〈◊〉 of BUCKINGHAM's Hounds, etc.  
To an Excellent Tune much in Request.  
 

ALL in a Morning fair,  
As I road to take the Air,  
I heard some to holloo most clearly:  
I drew myself a near,  
To listen who they were,  
That was going a hunting so early.  
I saw they were some Gentlemen,  
Who belonged to th' Duke of Buckingham,  
They were going to make there a trial:  
To run the Hounds o' the North,  
Being of such fame and worth,  
England has not the like, without all denial.  
Then in Wreckdale scrogs,  
We threw off our Dogs,  
In a place where his lying was likely:  
But the like ne'er was seen,  
Since a Huntsman I have been,  
For no Hounds found a Fox more quickly,  
There was Dido and Spanker,  
And Younker was there,  
And 〈◊〉, that ne'er looks behind him,  
There was Rose and Bonny Lass,  
Who were always in the Chase,  
These were part o'th' Hounds that did find him.  
Mr. Tybbals cries, away,  
Hark away, hark away,  
With that our Foot Huntsman did hear him:  
Tom Mossman cries G— dz-— ds,  
Uncouple all your Hounds,  
Or else we shall never come near him.  
Then Caper and Countess,  
And Comely were thrown off,  
With famous Thumper and Crier,  
And several Hounds beside,  
Whose stoutness there was tried,  
And not one in the Pack did tyre,  
Our Hounds came in a pace,  
And we fell into a Chase,  
And thus we pursued the poor Creature:  
With our English and French Horn,  
We encouraged 〈◊〉 Hounds that Morn,  
And our cry it was greater and greater.   
 

It could not be expressed,  
Which Hound run the best,  
For the● run on a Breast all together:  
They run at such a rate,  
As you have not heard of late,  
When they chased him i'th' Valleys together.  
Then to the Moor be twined,  
Being clear again the wind,  
Thinking he might have crossed it over:  
But our Hounds run so hard,  
They made the Fox afraid,  
And forced him to turn to his cover.  
Up the Hills he runs along,  
And his cover was full strong,  
But I think he had no great ease on't:  
For they run with such a cry,  
That their Echoes made him fly,  
I'll assure you our sport 'twas pleasant.  
Then homeward he hies,  
And in wreckledale he lies,  
Thinking the wind might save him:  
But our Hounds ran so near,  
That they posted him with fear,  
And our Horsemen they did deceive him.  
For Squire Whitcliff road amain,  
And he whipped it o'er the plain:  
Mr. Watson his Horse did not favour?  
They road up the highest Hills,  
And down the deepest Dales,  
Expecting his Life for there labour.  
Mr. Tybbal road his part,  
Although his Chase was smart,  
Default they were seldom or never:  
But ever by and by,  
To the Hounds he would cry,  
Halloo, halloo, halloo, hark away altogether.  
Tom Mossman he road short,  
Yet he helped us in our sport,  
For he came in both Cursing and swearing:  
But when 'twas in his power,  
He cried out, that's our silly whore,  
Hark to Caperman now Staughterman's near him.  
Then to Skipland would he goes,  
Being pursued by his foes,  
The Company after him did follow,  
a untargage there we had,  
Which made our Huntsmen full glad,  
For we gave him many a halloo.  
The sport being almost gone,  
And the chase being almost run,  
He thought to have crossed the River;  
But our Hounds being in,  
They after him did swim,  
And so they destroyed him for ever.  
Then Leppin took a horn,  
As good as e'er was blown:  
Tom Mossman bid him wind his Death then;  
The Country People all,  
Came flocking to his fall,  
This was Honour enough for a Frenchman.  
So-whoo-up we then Proclaimed,  
God bless the Duke of Buckingham,  
For our Hounds then had gained much Glory  
This being the sixth Fox,  
That we killed above the Rocks,  
Anu there is an end of the story.