One day I walked the road and crosses a field to go
by where the hounds ran hard
And on the master raced behind, the hunters chased
to where the pass was barred.
One fine young lady's refused the tence to clear
I un-locked the gatebut she did wait until the pack had
disappeared.
Crop-handle carved in bone, sat high upon a throne of finest
Engleesh leather
The Queen of all the Pack: this joker raised his hat and
talked about the weather.
All should be warned about this high-born Hunting Girl.
She took this simple man's downfall in hand; I raised the
flag that she unfurled.
Boot leather flashing and spur-necks the size of your thumb.
This high-born hunter had tastes as strange as they come.
Unbrided passion: I took the bit in my teeth
Her standing over me on my knees underneath.