Author: Arthur Conan Doyle

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    [''Ware Holes!' is the expression used in the hunting-field to warn those behind against rabbit-burrows or other suck dangers.]

    A sportin' death! My word it was!
    An' taken in a sportin' way.
    Mind you, I wasn't there to see;
    I only tell you what they say.

    They found that day at Shillinglee,
    An' ran 'im down to Chillinghurst;
    The fox was goin' straight an' free
    For ninety minutes at a burst.

    They 'ad a check at Ebernoe
    An' made a cast across the Down,
    Until they got a view 'ullo
    An' chased 'im up to Kirdford town.

    From Kirdford 'e run Bramber way,
    An' took 'em over 'alf the Weald.
    If you 'ave tried the Sussex clay,
    You'll guess it weeded out the field.

    Until at last I don't suppose
    As 'arf a dozen, at the most,
    Came safe to where the grassland goes
    Switchbackin' southwards to the coast.

    Young Captain 'Eadley, 'e was there,
    And Jim the whip an' Percy Day;
    The Purcells an' Sir Charles Adair,
    An' this 'ere gent from London way.

    For 'e 'ad gone amazin' fine,
    Two 'undred pounds between 'is knees;
    Eight stone he was, an' rode at nine,
    As light an' limber as you please.

    'E was a stranger to the 'Unt,
    There weren't a person as 'e knew there;
    But 'e could ride, that London gent -
    'E sat 'is mare as if 'e grew there.

    They seed the 'ounds upon the scent,
    But found a fence across their track,
    And 'ad to fly it; else it meant
    A turnin' and a 'arkin' back.

    'E was the foremost at the fence,
    And as 'is mare just cleared the rail
    He turned to them that rode be'ind,
    For three was at 'is very tail.

    ''Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' with the word,
    Still sittin' easy on his mare,
    Down, down 'e went, an' down an' down,
    Into the quarry yawnin' there.

    Some say it was two 'undred foot;
    The bottom lay as black as ink.
    I guess they 'ad some ugly dreams,
    Who reined their 'orses on the brink.

    'E'd only time for that one cry;
    ''Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' saves all three.
    There may be better deaths to die,
    But that one's good enough for me.

    For mind you, 'twas a sportin' end,
    Upon a right good sportin' day;
    They think a deal of 'im down 'ere,
    That gent what came from London way.

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Type of Poem: Narrative Poem

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This captivating narrative poem adopts an engaging storytelling style and a colloquial tone. It is set in the world of fox hunting, presenting the theme of death within a sporting context. The poem is marked by a sense of kinetic energy and suspense, driven by the rhythmic meter and the relentless pursuit of the fox. The use of dialect, notably the consistent dropping of the 'h' sound, lends authenticity to the narrative voice and anchors the poem in a specific socio-cultural context, likely rural England.

The poem artfully employs various literary devices such as foreshadowing and irony. The repeated phrase 'Ware Holes!' serves as both a literal and metaphorical warning, foretelling the tragic end of the London gent, whose death is ironically presented as 'sportin'.' The narrative is marked by vivid imagery and a sense of place, with mentions of specific locations like Shillinglee, Chillinghurst, Ebernoe, and Kirdford town, enhancing the reader's immersion in the hunting scene. Despite its premise, the poem does not glorify hunting but subtly critiques it, as implied by the tragic end of the protagonist. Overall, the poem offers a poignant exploration of mortality, valor, and the unforeseen dangers lurking beneath seemingly harmless pursuits.