Arthur Conan Doyle ( )


Songs of Action (1898). 19. Ware oles!


[Ware Holes! is the expression used in the hunting-field 
to warn those behind against rabbit-burrows or other suck dangers.]

A sportin death!  My word it was!
   	An taken in a sportin way.
Mind you, I wasnt there to see;
   	I only tell you what they say.

They found that day at Shillinglee,
   	An ran im down to Chillinghurst;
The fox was goin straight an' free
   	For ninety minutes at a burst.

They ad a check at Ebernoe
   	An made a cast across the Down,
Until they got a view ullo
   	An chased im up to Kirdford town.

From Kirdford e run Bramber way,
   	An took em over alf the Weald.
If you ave tried the Sussex clay,
   	You'll guess it weeded out the field.

Until at last I dont suppose
   	As arf a dozen, at the most,
Came safe to where the grassland goes
   	Switchbackin southwards to the coast.

Young Captain Eadley, e was there,
   	And Jim the whip an Percy Day;
The Purcells an Sir Charles Adair,
   	An this ere gent from London way.

For e ad gone amazin fine,
   	Two undred pounds between is knees;
Eight stone he was, an rode at nine,
   	As light an' limber as you please.

E was a stranger to the Unt,
   	There werent a person as e knew there;
But e could ride, that London gent 
  	E sat is mare as if e grew there.

They seed the ounds upon the scent,
   	But found a fence across their track,
And ad to fly it; else it meant
   	A turnin and a arkin back.

E was the foremost at the fence,
   	And as is mare just cleared the rail
He turned to them that rode beind,
   	For three was at is very tail.

Ware oles! says e, an with the word,
   	Still sittin easy on his mare,
Down, down e went, an down an down,
   	Into the quarry yawnin there.

Some say it was two undred foot;
   	The bottom lay as black as ink.
I guess they ad some ugly dreams,
   	Who reined their orses on the brink.

Ed only time for that one cry;
   	Ware oles! says e, an saves all three.
There may be better deaths to die,
   	But that ones good enough for me.

For mind you, twas a sportin end,
   	Upon a right good sportin day;
They think a deal of im down ere,
   	That gent what came from London way.





(1898). 19. ! !


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  . 
28-30.06.2004
   


Arthur Conan Doyle's other poems:
  1. The Guards Came Through (1919). 12. The Bigot
  2. The Guards Came Through (1919). 13. The Athabasca Trail
  3. The Guards Came Through (1919). 23. A Parable
  4. The Guards Came Through (1919). 21. Comrades
  5. The Guards Came Through (1919). 7. Grousing


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