| One day I walked the road and crossed a field to go by where the hounds ran
|
| hard.
|
| And on the master raced: behind the hunters chased to where the path was
|
| barred.
|
| One fine young lady’s horse refused the fence to clear.
|
| I unlocked the gate but she did wait until the pack had disappeared.
|
| Crop-handle carved in bone; |
| sat high upon a throne of finest English
|
| Leather.
|
| The Queen of all the Pack: this joker raised his hat and talked about the
|
| weather.
|
| All should be warned about this high-born Hunting Girl.
|
| She took this simple man’s downfall in hand; |
| I raised the flag that she
|
| unfurled.
|
| Boot leather flashing and spur-necks the size of my thumb.
|
| This high-born hunter had tastes as strange as they come.
|
| Unbridled passion: I took the bit in my teeth.
|
| Her standing over: me on my knees underneath.
|
| My lady, be discrete. |
| I must get to my feet and go back to the farm.
|
| Whilst I appreciate you are no deviate, I might come to some harm.
|
| I’m not inclined to acts refined, if that’s how it goes.
|
| Oh, high-born Hunting Girl, I’m just a normal low-born so-and-so. |