THE WOLF HUNT.

Air—'Una niña bonita y hermosa.'

We will ride to the wolf hunt together, Where thousands must yield up their breath, By the night, by the light—in all weather! Then hurrah, for the wild hunt of death! Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, Over mountain and valley we come, While the death-fife now screams like an eagle To the roll and the roll and the roll and the roll of the drum. Fatherland!—how the wild beasts are yelling! Blood drips from each ravenous mouth; Blood of brothers, each torn from his dwelling By the wild, hungry wolves of the South. Chorus—Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, &c. Let them rave! for our rifles are ready; Let them howl! for our sabres are keen; And the nerve of the hunter is steady When the track of the wére-wolf is seen. Chorus—Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, &c. Yes, the foul wolves have been o'er the border, But the fields were piled high with their slain, Till we drove them, in frantic disorder, To their dark home of hunger again. Chorus—Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, &c. So we'll ride to the wolf hunt together, Where the bullet stops many a breath, By the night, by the light—in all weather, To the wild Northern wolf hunt of death. Where the deep cannon bays for our beagle, Over mountain and valley we come; While the death-fife now screams like an eagle To the roll and the roll and the roll and the roll of the drum.