William Henry Ogilvie

Here you will find the Poem Tom Moody of poet William Henry Ogilvie

Tom Moody

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!'