Original Poetry.

Western Star, Issue 1575, 1 July 1891, Page 2

Original Poetry.

THE WAIRIO HUNT. 'TwiM in Juno and a bright winter morn, When the gnod huntsman sounded his horu To lot people all know To the hunt for to go, And to bring smiles to all faces forlorn. In Waitio it sounds loud awl shrill; It echoes over valley and hill. In the gorges resounds; Ftom the rooks it rebouuds, Aiid wc obey it with hearty good will. Gnod ho'Pos on that day wore displayed, And riders like true huntsmen arrayed ; And the ladies are there All so charming and fair, And thoir smiles make us feel well ropaid. The hounds are now away on the trail ; Start all at once a strati go dismal wail. Tho fun now commences With bristling gorse fences— Now an 1 then a barbwire or a rail. Over fences they cross—not a few ; Yot they stick to their pigskins like gleu. With the huntsman on Prior And tho Master Batbwire, They are now nearly lost to our view. But reyuard is ab last brought to bay In a Lig rough gorse fence o'er tho way. Thon there is a great rush To securo his old brush But he's left it at home on that day. Tho sport is onjoyed by evoryone. Wo hope to havo many a good run ; Then drinking a toast; To our good-hearted host Three oheors to tho Master euds tho fun. T. B. Wairio, June 20th.