CAVALIER.
Now the hunting season is over,And the fox is at peace in the gorse,I will tell you a simple story,And the hero is only a horse:They called him the Cavalier, Sir,His coat was a chesnut hue;He wasn’t a big one either;Standing but fifteen two.He was bred just as well as they make ’em;He could jump with the best in the hunt:And no matter how long, or how fast, was the run,The Cavalier, Sir, was always in front.In his youth he had carried a lady,Bred almost as well as himself,But one day he pecked, and she fell, at a fence,So they said he must go on the shelf:He was put up and sold by auction,And as he looked well, and was sound,He was bought by a man in the army,For a matter of fifty pound.His new master found him perfect,Fast, and at fences bold;But the regiment was ordered to India,So once more he was up to be sold.This time he was sold to a dealer,A good enough man, I daresay,Who hired him out, to the first man who asked,Owner’s risk, for two guineas a day.And so he went on for five seasons,Sometimes out three days in the week,Which is hard on a horse, but he could’nt complain,For the poor Cavalier could’nt speak.One day he was hired to a cockney,Who galloped him hard to the meet,Who thought that a horse was a kind of machine,And whose hands were as bad as his seat.That day the hounds had a good run, sir,They turned a fox out of the gorse;That cockney, he galloped for miles on the road,Which is terrible hard on a horse.The Cavalier loved to go hunting,He loved to dash over the grass;In the days of his youth he’d have been at the front,And not let another horse pass:But years always tell on a horse, sir,The same as they tell on a man,And to clatter down roads with a fool on his back’Twas impossible quite, no horse can.The cockney was frightened of fences,On the King’s hard, high road he would go,So he flogged and he spurred for an hour and a half,And cried that the horse was too slow.The Cavalier was there at the death, sir,When they threw the red fox to the hound,But his brave heart was broke, he was finished,He staggered, and fell to the ground:Then up came a sporting farmer,Who gazed on his corpse with a tear,Saying, “There lies the last of the best horse I bred,The last of the Cavalier.”
Now the hunting season is over,And the fox is at peace in the gorse,I will tell you a simple story,And the hero is only a horse:They called him the Cavalier, Sir,His coat was a chesnut hue;He wasn’t a big one either;Standing but fifteen two.He was bred just as well as they make ’em;He could jump with the best in the hunt:And no matter how long, or how fast, was the run,The Cavalier, Sir, was always in front.In his youth he had carried a lady,Bred almost as well as himself,But one day he pecked, and she fell, at a fence,So they said he must go on the shelf:He was put up and sold by auction,And as he looked well, and was sound,He was bought by a man in the army,For a matter of fifty pound.His new master found him perfect,Fast, and at fences bold;But the regiment was ordered to India,So once more he was up to be sold.This time he was sold to a dealer,A good enough man, I daresay,Who hired him out, to the first man who asked,Owner’s risk, for two guineas a day.And so he went on for five seasons,Sometimes out three days in the week,Which is hard on a horse, but he could’nt complain,For the poor Cavalier could’nt speak.One day he was hired to a cockney,Who galloped him hard to the meet,Who thought that a horse was a kind of machine,And whose hands were as bad as his seat.That day the hounds had a good run, sir,They turned a fox out of the gorse;That cockney, he galloped for miles on the road,Which is terrible hard on a horse.The Cavalier loved to go hunting,He loved to dash over the grass;In the days of his youth he’d have been at the front,And not let another horse pass:But years always tell on a horse, sir,The same as they tell on a man,And to clatter down roads with a fool on his back’Twas impossible quite, no horse can.The cockney was frightened of fences,On the King’s hard, high road he would go,So he flogged and he spurred for an hour and a half,And cried that the horse was too slow.The Cavalier was there at the death, sir,When they threw the red fox to the hound,But his brave heart was broke, he was finished,He staggered, and fell to the ground:Then up came a sporting farmer,Who gazed on his corpse with a tear,Saying, “There lies the last of the best horse I bred,The last of the Cavalier.”
Now the hunting season is over,And the fox is at peace in the gorse,I will tell you a simple story,And the hero is only a horse:
Now the hunting season is over,
And the fox is at peace in the gorse,
I will tell you a simple story,
And the hero is only a horse:
They called him the Cavalier, Sir,His coat was a chesnut hue;He wasn’t a big one either;Standing but fifteen two.
They called him the Cavalier, Sir,
His coat was a chesnut hue;
He wasn’t a big one either;
Standing but fifteen two.
He was bred just as well as they make ’em;He could jump with the best in the hunt:And no matter how long, or how fast, was the run,The Cavalier, Sir, was always in front.
He was bred just as well as they make ’em;
He could jump with the best in the hunt:
And no matter how long, or how fast, was the run,
The Cavalier, Sir, was always in front.
In his youth he had carried a lady,Bred almost as well as himself,But one day he pecked, and she fell, at a fence,So they said he must go on the shelf:
In his youth he had carried a lady,
Bred almost as well as himself,
But one day he pecked, and she fell, at a fence,
So they said he must go on the shelf:
He was put up and sold by auction,And as he looked well, and was sound,He was bought by a man in the army,For a matter of fifty pound.
He was put up and sold by auction,
And as he looked well, and was sound,
He was bought by a man in the army,
For a matter of fifty pound.
His new master found him perfect,Fast, and at fences bold;But the regiment was ordered to India,So once more he was up to be sold.
His new master found him perfect,
Fast, and at fences bold;
But the regiment was ordered to India,
So once more he was up to be sold.
This time he was sold to a dealer,A good enough man, I daresay,Who hired him out, to the first man who asked,Owner’s risk, for two guineas a day.
This time he was sold to a dealer,
A good enough man, I daresay,
Who hired him out, to the first man who asked,
Owner’s risk, for two guineas a day.
And so he went on for five seasons,Sometimes out three days in the week,Which is hard on a horse, but he could’nt complain,For the poor Cavalier could’nt speak.
And so he went on for five seasons,
Sometimes out three days in the week,
Which is hard on a horse, but he could’nt complain,
For the poor Cavalier could’nt speak.
One day he was hired to a cockney,Who galloped him hard to the meet,Who thought that a horse was a kind of machine,And whose hands were as bad as his seat.
One day he was hired to a cockney,
Who galloped him hard to the meet,
Who thought that a horse was a kind of machine,
And whose hands were as bad as his seat.
That day the hounds had a good run, sir,They turned a fox out of the gorse;That cockney, he galloped for miles on the road,Which is terrible hard on a horse.
That day the hounds had a good run, sir,
They turned a fox out of the gorse;
That cockney, he galloped for miles on the road,
Which is terrible hard on a horse.
The Cavalier loved to go hunting,He loved to dash over the grass;In the days of his youth he’d have been at the front,And not let another horse pass:
The Cavalier loved to go hunting,
He loved to dash over the grass;
In the days of his youth he’d have been at the front,
And not let another horse pass:
But years always tell on a horse, sir,The same as they tell on a man,And to clatter down roads with a fool on his back’Twas impossible quite, no horse can.
But years always tell on a horse, sir,
The same as they tell on a man,
And to clatter down roads with a fool on his back
’Twas impossible quite, no horse can.
The cockney was frightened of fences,On the King’s hard, high road he would go,So he flogged and he spurred for an hour and a half,And cried that the horse was too slow.
The cockney was frightened of fences,
On the King’s hard, high road he would go,
So he flogged and he spurred for an hour and a half,
And cried that the horse was too slow.
The Cavalier was there at the death, sir,When they threw the red fox to the hound,But his brave heart was broke, he was finished,He staggered, and fell to the ground:
The Cavalier was there at the death, sir,
When they threw the red fox to the hound,
But his brave heart was broke, he was finished,
He staggered, and fell to the ground:
Then up came a sporting farmer,Who gazed on his corpse with a tear,Saying, “There lies the last of the best horse I bred,The last of the Cavalier.”
Then up came a sporting farmer,
Who gazed on his corpse with a tear,
Saying, “There lies the last of the best horse I bred,
The last of the Cavalier.”
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