Fox Hunt Yarn by James McIntyre — Read

This my adventure is no hoax;

I mounted horse to hunt a fox, / The cunning beast got into cover, / Hunting him we rode all over.

But my fine horse he stumbling fell / Down to the bottom of the well, / And thus the noble beast was slain.

My comrades scattered o'er the plain, / Knew not that in the depths profound / I was in deep hole underground;

While o'er broad fields they proudly course, / I was laying on my dead horse.

And from thence did often yell, / But no one came near to that well;

The carcass soon it did ferment, / And from it there went a strong scent, / Which attracted flock of buzzards, / And down they came to fill their gizzards;

Around four of them I did cling, / And made them fly aloft on wing.

But they flew higher than I wanted, / Though T was still quite undaunted;

I first let one buzzard slip, / Then another on downward trip, / 'Till I arrived all safe and sound, / Without a scratch on solid ground, / But now no man can ever coax / Me to go hunting of a fox.