"Hup!!!—yer infernal, confounded —— Hover!!!"
And "Hover" it was!
SOMETHING LIKE A NOSE.
Whip (after galloping half a mile to a holloa.) "Where did you see him?"
Yokel. "Can't zay as 'ow I 'zactly zeed 'un, but I think I smelled 'un!"
Second Horseman No. 1. "Ulloah, Danny, what are you lookin' for?"
Second Horseman No. 2. "Perkisites. Guv'nor's just been over 'ere. 'E jumps so much 'igher than 'is 'orse, there's always some small change or summat to be picked up!"
THE NEW NIMROD
[Mr. Pat O'Brien, M.P., was first in at the death on one occasion with the Meath Hounds on his bicycle, and was presented with the brush.]
Air—"The Hunting Day"
"What a fine hunting day"—
'Tis an old-fashioned lay
That I'll change to an up-to-date pome;
Old stagers may swear
That the pace isn't fair,
But they're left far behind us at home!
See cyclists and bikes on their way,
And scorchers their prowess display;
Let us join the glad throng
That goes wheeling along,
And we'll all go a-hunting to-day!
New Nimrods exclaim,
"Timber-topping" is tame,
And "bull-finches" simply child's play;
And they don't care a jot
For a gallop or trot,
Though they will go a-hunting to-day.
There's a fox made of clockwork, they say
They'll wind him and get him away;
He runs with a rush
On rails with his brush,
So we must go and chase him to-day.
We've abolished the sounds
Of the horn and the hounds—
'Tis the bicycle squeaker that squeals
And the pack has been stuffed,
Or sent to old Cruft,
Now the huntsmen have taken to wheels!
Hairy country no more we essay,
Five bars, too, no longer