Ammon Wrigley - "A Hunting Morn"

The following is a transcription of a work by Saddleworth poet Ammon Wrigley (1861-1946).

A Hunting Morn

The winter sun is o’er the Chew,
The snow flecked moors adorning
The frosty air and cloudless sky,
Proclaim a hunting morning.
Then lets’s away by Shepherd’s Green,
And leave the dales behind us;
If dull old Care seeks us to-day,
He'll have a job to find us.
The white hares sit by Rimmon Clough,
They wonder what we’re doing:
They’re waiting for these merry hounds,
So let’s be up and going.
The moorland soon shall feel our feet,
Through ling and bracken glowing,
And glen and hollow sound again
With hunting cheers o’erflowing.
And when the day shall shut her eye
Neath golden lashes burning,
We'll take the old moor road again
To rest and feast returning.
The night shall bring the rousing song,
The laughter and the chorus;
And may old Time be kind and drive
The hours slowly o’er us.