All sorts of vehicles and vans,

Bad, middling, and the smart; Here rolled 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 slaved for all the Nine !

Yet marvel not at any load

That any horse might drag;

When all, that morn, at once were drawn Together by a stag.

Now when they saw John Huggins go

At such a sober pace;

"Hallo!" cried they; "come, trot away, You'll never see the chase!"

But John, as grave as any judge,
Made answer quite as blunt ;
"It will be time enough to trot,
When I begin to hunt!"

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.*

Alluding to the frontispiece.

"Now welcome lads," quoth he, " and prads,

You're all in glorious luck :

Old Robin has a run to-day,

A noted forest buck.

Fair Mead's the place, where Bob and Tom,

In red already ride;

"Tis but a step, and on a horse,

You soon may go a-stride."

So off they scampered, man and horse,
As time and temper pressed-

But Huggins, hitching on a tree,
Branched off from all the rest.

Howbeit he tumbled down in time
To join with Tom and Bob,

All in Fair Mead, which held that day
Its own fair meed of mob.