Death had beckoned with grisly hand
To the finest Whip in hunting-land.
- My time is short,- Tom Moody said,
- Master, when I am done and dead,
Lay me at Barrow beneath the yew
In the dear old shire we have hunted through.
Let six earth-stoppers carry me there
With slow step and heads bare.
Bring the old horse that I used to ride,
With my whip and boots to his saddle tied.
Fasten the brush in his forehead-band
Of the last dog-fox we brought to hand.
And let a couple of old hounds come,
Fitting mourners to follow me home.
Then, when you've laid me safe down there,
Give three view-holloas will shake the air,
And you'll know, if I do not lift my head,
There is no mistake-Tom Moody's dead!'
Tom Moody
William Henry Ogilvie
(1)
Poem topics: death, dog, home, horse, hunting, time, dear, head, earth, mistake, bring, master, view, step, short, follow, slow, beneath, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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