 A HUNTING SONG by Adam Lindsay Gordon Read for LibriVox.org by Bruce Gachuk Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord. If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford. And may he ever pleasantly, each gallant sport, pursue. If he takes his liquor fairly, and his fence is fairly too, he cares not for the bubbles of fortune's fickle tide, who like Bendigo can battle and like Oliver can ride. He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide he'll frown, as he clears a five-foot pailing, or he knocks a peeler down. The dull cold world may blame us boys, but what care we, the wild? If coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile, for beauty's fun caresses can most tenderly repay the weariness and trouble of many an anxious day. Then fill your glass and drain it too, with all your heart and soul, to the best of sports, the fox-hunt, the fair ones, and the bowl, to a stout heart in adversity, through every ill to steer, and when fortune smiles, a score of friends like those around us here. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A Hunting Song by Adam Lindsay Gordon Read for livervox.org by Campbell Shelp Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stable man or lord. If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford, and may he ever pleasantly, each gallant sport pursue, if he takes his liquor fairly and his fences fairly too. He cares not for the bubbles of fortune's fickle tide, who like Bendigo can battle and like Oliver can ride. He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide hill frown, as he clears a five-foot pailing, or he knocks a peeler down. The dull cold world may blame us boys, but what care we the while, if coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile? For beauty's fond caresses can most tenderly repay the weariness and trouble of many an anxious day. Then fill your glass and drain it too, with all your heart and soul, to the best of sports, the fox hunt, the fair ones, and the bull, to a stout heart in adversity through every ill to steer, and when fortune smiles a score of friends like those around us here. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. A hunting song by Adam Linsley Gordon Read for livervox by Deborah Voltmer Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stable man or lord. If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford. And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue, if he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly too. He cares not for the bubbles of fortune's fickle tide, who like Mendingo can battle, or like Oliver can ride. He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide hill frown, as he clears a five-foot pawling, or he knocks a peeler down. The dull cold world may blame us boys, but what care we the while, if coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile? For beauty's fond caresses can most tenderly repay, the weariness and trouble of many an anxious day. Then fill your glass and drain it too, with all your heart and soul, to the best of sports, the fox-hunt, the fair ones, and the bowl, to a stout heart in adversity through every ill to steer, and when fortune smiles, a score of friends like those around here. This recording is in the public domain. A HUNTING SONG by Adam Lindsay Gordon read for librafox.org by Fa. Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord. If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford, and may he ever pleasantly, each gallant sport pursue, if he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly too. He cares not for the bubbles of fortune's fickle tide, who like Bendigo can battle, and like Oliver can ride. He lasts at those who caution, at those who chide he'll frown, as he clears a five-foot paling, where he knocks a peeler down. The dull cold world may blame us, boys, but what care we do while, if coral lips will cheer us and bright eyes on a smile? For beauty's font caresses can most tenderly repay the weariness and trouble of many an anxious day. Then fill your glass and drain it too with all your heart and soul, to the best of sports, the foxhunt, the fair ones, and the bull, to a stout heart in adversity through every ill to steer, and when fortune smiles a score of friends like those around us here. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The dull cold world may blame us, boys, but what care we do while, if coral lips will cheer us and bright eyes on us will smile? For beauty's font caresses can most tenderly repay the weariness and trouble of many an anxious day. Then fill your glass and drain it too with all your heart and soul, to the best of sports, the foxhunt, the fair ones, and the bull, to a stout heart in adversity through every ill to steer, and when fortune smiles a score of friends like those around us here. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Be he stable man or lord, if his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford. And may he ever pleasantly, each gallant sport pursue, if he takes his liquor fairly, and his face is fairly too. He cares not for the bubbles of fortunes fickle tide, who like Bendigo can battle, and like Oliver can ride. He laughs at those who caution, at those who chide he'll frown, as he clears a five foot pailing, or he knocks a peeler down. The dull cold world may blame us boys, but what care we the while? If coral lips will cheer us, and bright eyes on us smile, for beauty's font caresses can most tenderly repay the weariness and trouble of many an anxious day. Then fill your glass and drain it too, with all your heart and soul, to the best of sports the foxhunt, the fair ones and the bowl, to a stout heart in adversity, through every ill to steer, and when fortune smiles a scorer friends like those around us here. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain.