The Ballad of the Foxhunter [Live at the Royal Albert Hall]

Lay me on a cushioned chair
Carry me you four
With cushions here and cushions there
To see the world once more
To stable and to kennel go
Bring me what there is to bring
Lead my Lollard to and fro
And gently in a ring

Put the chair upon the grass
Bring Rody and his hounds
That I might contented pass
From these earthly bounds
His eyelids drop his head falls low
His old eyes cloud with dreams
The sun upon all things that grow
Falls in sleepy streams

Brown Lollard treds upon the lawn
And to the armchair goes
And now the old man’s dreams are gone
He smoothes his long brown nose
And now moves many a feathered tongue
Upon his wasted hands
For leading aged hounds and young
The huntsman near him stands

Servants round his cushioned place
Are with new sorry wrung
Hounds are gazing on his face
Aged hounds and young
Fire is in the old man’s eyes
His fingers move and sway
And when the wandering music dies
They hear him feebly say,

‘Huntsman Rody blow the horn
Make the hills reply.’
‘I cannot blow upon my horn
I can but weep and sigh.’

One blind hound lies apart
On the sun smitten grass
He holds deep commune in his heart
The moments pass and pass
The blind hound with a mournful din
Lifts his wintery head
The servants bear the body in
The hounds wail for the dead.

Huntsman Rody blow the horn
Make the hills reply
Huntsman Rody blow the horn
Make the hills reply
Huntsman Rody blow the horn
Make the hills reply
The huntsman loosens on the morn
A gay and mournful cry