The Solitary Huntsman

The solitary huntsman No coat of pink doth wear, But midnight black from cap to spur Upon his midnight mare. He drones a tuneless jingle In lieu of tally-ho: “I’ll catch a fox And put him in a box And never let him go.” The solitary huntsman, He follows silent hounds. No horn proclaims his joyless sport, And never a hoofbeat sounds. His hundred hounds, his thousands, Their master’s will they know: To catch a fox And put him in a box And never let him go. For all the fox’s doubling They track him to his den. The chase may fill a morning, Or threescore years and ten. The huntsman never sated Screaks to his saddlebow, “I’ll catch another fox And put him in a box And never let him go.”