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         The Pack of Bear-Dogs.

[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]

COME ye old Engliſh Huntſmen that love noble Sport,
Here's a Pack to be Sold, and Stanch Dogs of the ſort :
Not Sir Suſter nor Chetwind can match our fleet Hounds
For breaking down Fences, or leaping o'er Bounds :
Some are Deep-mouth'd and Speedy, ſome Mad, Blind and Lame,
Moſt Yelpers and Currs ; but all fit for the Game.
Chor.

{Then to Horſe, Loyal Hearts, leſt the Round Heads deceive ye,
For they have the Dogs, for they have the Dogs ;

And are Riding Tantive, Tive, Tive.

There's Atheiſt and Deiſt, and fawning Diſſenter ;
There's Republican ſly, and Old Long-winded Canter ;
There's Hereſie, Schiſm, and Mild Moderation,
That's ſtill in the Wrong, for the good of the Nation :
There's Baptiſt, Socinian, and Quakers with Scruples,
'Till Blind Tolerance link'd 'em all in Church Coup1es.
Chor.
{Then to Horſse, Loyal Hearts, leſt the Round-heads deceive ye,
For they have theDogs, for they have the Dogs ;

And are Riding Tantive, Tive, Tive.

Some were bred in the Camp, and ſome drop in the Fleet ;
Under Bulks ſome were Litter'd, and ſome in the Street ;
Some were poor ſenſeleſs Currs, without Tooth or Claw ;
Some were bred in a Shop, and ſome Runners at Law :
Some were poor wretched Currs, Mungrels, Starters and Setters,
'Till dividing the Spoil; they put in with their Betters.
Chor.
{Then to Horſe, Loyal Hearts, leſt the Round-heads deceive ye,
For they have the Dogs, for they have the Dogs ;

And are Riding Tantative, Tive, Tive.

A few, very few of a true Engliſh Breed,
Whoſe Noſes were good, and of excellent Speed ;
But what's a fine Mouth, to oppoſe every Throat,
Where Number and Noiſe quite drown the ſweet Note ?
If he hits of a Fault, or runs the Scent right,
Honeſt Tory is worry'd for a rank Jacobite.
Chor.
Then to Horſse, Loyal Hearts, leſt the Round-heads deceive ye,
For they have the Dogs, for they have the Dogs;

And are Riding Tantative, Tive, Tive.

Five Hundred Stout Dogs is a brave Pack to run ;
But the Leaders in chief, are but Old Forty One :
On a hot burning Scent, when they open their throat,
Then trail a Court place, how the Stauncheſt change Note :
Tho' nor Horn nor Voice,can their Fury controul,
Yet to the White Staff theyHunt all under Pole.
Chor.
{Then to Horſe, Loyal Hearts, leſt the Round-heads deceive ye,
For they have the Dogs, for they have the Dogs ;

And are Riding Tantive, Tive, Tive.

Cries the Huntſman, Ben, Hoadly, " Dear Dogs, I'm a Knave ;
"But you'r all Sovereign Currs, and your Prince is your slave :
" This my Writings will prove, ſtole from Prin, Nye and Peters,
" That all free-born Dogs, may Fall on their Betters :
" Then away on that Scent, tis the Old Game and Good,
"While Peers have ſat Haunches, and Kings Royal Blood.
Chor.
Then to Horſe, Loyal Hearts, leſt the Round-heads deceive ye,
For they have the Dogs, for they have the Dogs ;

And are Riding Tantive, Tive, Tive.                            A

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