Let out that day _to hunt_, instead
_Of going to the hounds_!

And some had horses of their own,
And some were forc'd to job it;
And some, while they inclin'd to _Hunt_,
Betook themselves to _Cob-it_.

All sorts of vehicles and vans,
Bad, middling, and the smart;
Here roll'd along the gay barouche,
And there a dirty cart!

And lo! a cart that held a squad
Of costermonger line;
With one poor hack, like Pegasus,
That slav'd for all the Nine!

* * * * *

And so he paced to Woodford Wells,
Where many a horseman met,
And letting go the _reins_, of course,
Prepared for _heavy wet_.

And lo! within the crowded door,
Stood Rounding, jovial elf;
Here shall the Muse frame no excuse,
But frame the man himself.