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Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, October 17, 1917 by Various
page 18 of 53 (33%)
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BEASTS ROYAL.

IV.

KING HENRY'S STAG-HOUND. A.D. 1536.

Ten puffs upon my master's toes,
And twenty on his sleeves,
Upon his hat a Tudor rose
Set round with silver leaves;
But never a hunting-spear,
And never a rowel-spur;
Who is this that he calls his Dear?
I think I will bark at her.

The Windsor groves were fresh and green,
Dangling with Summer dew,
When my master rode with his Spanish queen,
And the huntsman cried, "Halloo!"
Now never a horn is heard,
And never the lances stir;
Who is this that he calls his Bird?
I think I will follow her.

To-night my master walks alone
In the pleachéd pathway dim,
And the thick moss reddens on the stone
Where she used to walk with him.
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