Part 3 — "A-HUNTING WE WILL GO"
Reading edition
From "Don Quixote in England"
The dusky night rides down the sky, And ushers in the morn; The hounds all join in glorious cry, The huntsman winds his horn. And a-hunting we will go.
The wife around her husband throws Her arms to make him stay; "My dear, it rains, it hails, it blows; You cannot hunt to-day." Yet a-hunting we will go.
Away they fly to 'scape the rout, Their steeds they soundly switch; Some are thrown in, and some thrown out, And some thrown in the ditch. Yet a-hunting we will go.
Sly Reynard now like lightning flies, And sweeps across the vale; And when the hounds too near he spies, He drops his bushy tail. Then a-hunting we will go.
Fond Echo seems to like the sport, And join the jovial cry; The woods, the hills, the sound retort, And music fills the sky, When a-hunting we do go.
At last his strength to faintness worn, Poor Reynard ceases flight; Then hungry, homeward we return, To feast away the night. And a-drinking we do go.
Ye jovial hunters, in the morn Prepare then for the chase; Rise at the sounding of the horn And health with sport embrace, When a-hunting we do go.
Henry Fielding [1707-1754]