I rose up one bright winter's morning:
My heart was as heavy as lead;
I thought to go mope in the garden,
But I followed the hounds instead.
To hear the halloo in the valley
You'd ha' thought they were hunting a hare,
But as soon as I heard I knew better &mdash
'Twas a weary old witch called Care.
At dusk she lay down by my pillow,
At dawn she was haunting me still:
No bell, book and candle could fright her,
No silver bullet could kill;
But she ran from the voice of the huntsman,
She fled from the twang of the horn,
And the sound of the hounds' merry music
Afar on the windy morn.
By fold and by clough and by moorland
We hunted her all the day long,
And I swear that the countryside over
There was never a hare so strong.
Whoop! tear her! good hounds, now you've got her!
You thought you were hunting a hare;
But I know all the while that you've rid me
Of a weary old witch called Care!
Notes
From WINDSOR MAGAZINE, Vol. XXXI, © 1909, p. 110. Later published by J. E. Cornish, Ltd., in LANCASHIRE HUNTING SONGS AND OTHER MOORLAND LAYS, p. 19, in the same year.
This poem was probably composed in the early 1900's before the poet went to the Pacific Northwest, Victoria, BC, where she resided from 1904 to 1913.
LANCASHIRE HUNTING SONGS AND OTHER MOORLAND LAYS was a collection of many of the poet's early poems with a hunting and country theme. It is known that as a girl she followed (on foot) the local hunts. This poem expresses the pleasure she gained from this pastime and how it would lift her spirits.
Jim Saville and Charley Noble
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