Author: Arthur Conan Doyle

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    We started from the Valley Pride,
    And Farnham way we went.
    We waited at the cover-side,
    But never found a scent.
    Then we tried the withy beds
    Which grow by Frensham town,
    And there we found the old gray fox,
    The same old fox,
    The game old fox;
    Yes, there we found the old gray fox,
    Which lives on Hankley Down.
    So here's to the master,
    And here's to the man!
    And here's to twenty couple
    Of the white and black and tan!
    Here's a find without a wait!
    Here's a hedge without a gate!
    Here's the man who follows straight,
    Where the old fox ran.

    The Member rode his thoroughbred,
    Doctor had the gray,
    The Soldier led on a roan red,
    The Sailor rode the bay.
    Squire was there on his Irish mare,
    And Parson on the brown;
    And so we chased the old gray fox,
    The same old fox,
    The game old fox,
    And so we chased the old gray fox
    Across the Hankley Down.
    So here's to the master,
    And here's to the man!
    &c. &c. &c.

    The Doctor's gray was going strong
    Until she slipped and fell;
    He had to keep his bed so long
    His patients all got well.
    The Member he had lost his seat,
    'Twas carried by his horse;
    And so we chased the old gray fox,
    The same old fox,
    The game old fox;
    And so we chased the old gray fox
    That earthed in Hankley Gorse.
    So here's to the master,
    And here's to the man!
    &c. &c. &c.

    The Parson sadly fell away,
    And in the furze did lie;
    The words we heard that Parson say
    Made all the horses shy!
    The Sailor he was seen no more
    Upon that stormy bay;
    But still we chased the old gray fox,
    The same old fox,
    The game old fox;
    Still we chased the old gray fox
    Through all the winter day.
    So here's to the master,
    And here's to the man!
    &c. &c. &c.

    And when we found him gone to ground,
    They sent for spade and man;
    But Squire said 'Shame! The beast was game!
    A gamer never ran!
    His wind and pace have gained the race,
    His life is fairly won.
    But may we meet the old gray fox,
    The same old fox,
    The game old fox;
    May we meet the old gray fox
    Before the year is done.
    So here's to the master,
    And here's to the man!
    And here's to twenty couple
    Of the white and black and tan!
    Here's a find without await!
    Here's a hedge without a gate!
    Here's the man who follows straight,
    Where the old fox ran.

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Type of Poem: Ballad

Date Written:

Date Published:

Language: English

Keywords: Public Domain

Source: Public Domain Collection

Publisher:

Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Comments/Notes: This poem is a celebration of camaraderie, the thrill of the chase, and the respect for the resilience of nature. It's set against the backdrop of a traditional fox hunt, a common rural activity that is both sport and social event. The repeated lines about the "old gray fox" establish a refrain that gives the poem a rhythmic, song-like quality. This repetition also elevates the fox from mere quarry to a figure of admiration, a worthy adversary that has earned the hunters' respect.

The various characters presented embody different aspects of society, from the parson to the soldier, each with their own unique experiences during the hunt. The narrative unfolds in a lively, humorous tone, with the mishaps of the hunt serving to underscore the unpredictability of life and the shared human experience. The poem employs a rhyming structure, which further enhances its rhythm and musicality. The repeated toasts to the master, the man, and the hounds, accompanied by the "&c. &c. &c." further emphasize the communal spirit of the event. These elements, combined with the vivid imagery and the personification of the fox, create a rich, lively scene that captures both the excitement of the hunt and the deeper respect for the spirit of the fox.