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Lamping Poem...


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I tried to find a thread from a while back which had a few good bits of poetry on but couldn't find it.   Feel free to add your own fellas...   It's summer now and the mutts are resting, THL boys

I stay in at night Cos my dog is shiiite .       The end

Coursing - T’was the day before Christmas and all through the land   A tight young Lurcher was trying her hand At the Hare catching game she was having

Come with me and with my Lady, ere the lazy sun is up, Over hill and over hollow, See her move and never stop :

See her plough the tangled bracken, Search the bushes and the wood, When the cunning hare has bolted, Watch her light foot touch the sod, All the week in dust and bother, Do we smother, she and I :

Sunday morning brings us leisure, Purer air and clearer sky. Oh how joyous is the journey To the flower and the tree : In the wild wood we are happy, On the hillside we are free

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I tried to find a thread from a while back which had a few good bits of poetry on but couldn't find it.

 

Feel free to add your own fellas...

 

It's summer now and the mutts are resting, THL boys are bored, plenty of jesting.

 

It wouldn't be so bad, if the weather was nice, for a bit of sunshine I would pay a good price. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait for December, them cold frosty mornings I can hardly remember.

 

The ground is sodden and the fields water logged, a quick mooch about and your boots are clogged.

 

This day last year it was 30 and rising, "wear your sun cream" everyone was advising. But not today, I've got my waterproofs on, I think this years best has been and gone.

 

So forward we look to the cold winters nights, heavy winds and the cold that bites. Pitch black sky and a touch of drizzle, lamping the field and there are eyes in the middle.

 

The deep chested mutt with its ears pricked up, 12 months old, still a pup, long straight back and plenty of bone, he knows a slip is coming from my quiet firm tone. "Get on lad" as I release the slip lead, the dog takes off with a great burst of speed.

 

He gets to his quarry at the end of the beam, as he bends down to strike his victim knows the regime. With a leap in the air at the very last second, the dog is left baffled just as I reckoned. But he shook himself off and continued the chase, it didn't take long to be back in the race.

 

Twisting and turning over the moors, over a wall with his delicate paws, this is the field where he gets his first win, with a strike and a squeal - his career can begin.

 

I turn off the beam and quietly wait, he comes over the wall and over a gate, I hear the grass move as he's getting near, a perfect retrieve - let's go home for a beer.

Brilliant that Gaz, really enjoyed ??

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A long Netting one -

 

He makes his way through cold dark fields, the wind his only friend

Coney thoughts upon his mind, will he get one at the end

First pin in, lines pulled tight, he walks with skill and care

But little does old Poacher know, if Coney he is there

He bants the field and crosses back, old poacher starts to run

For the squeal of Coney he can hear, at least he’s now got one

Indeed its there, he feels it move, supper has arrived

He hanks his net, and hazel pegs, for one Coney he has strived

But none the less does poacher care, for it’s the gift which he was taught

To work by night with net and peg, and never but never be caught.

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Coursing - T’was the day before Christmas and all through the land

 

A tight young Lurcher was trying her hand

At the Hare catching game she was having some fun

Herself and her master were out for a run

At just round first light this fine winter morn

Old puss sat tight on what used to be corn

The bitch on the slip lead, the Hare in the seat

It was just about time for two athletes to meet

Puss made a break and the slip gave a crack

The bitch had to push hard or end on her back

The Hare was ahead and the young bitch behind

But loosing today was not on her mind

A jink and a turn and the same three times more

Today was the day she would settle the score

Her back legs were aching and her heart going fast

The Hare turned again but it would be her last

The big run was over, the little dog won

Her master gave a yell; it was all such great fun

A back she came trotting, her tail in the air

In her jaws was clamped tight the Hare

Dropped at his feet, his supper once more

Off they went walking till the day it was o’er

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I think you all really need to get out more lol

+2

get a life more like,i can understand poems of old with hunting references but to sit there and make one up bit sad,some people do anything for a push on the like button lol

Don't you think the poems of old were written by someone who "sat there and made them up"? Lol. What a silly comment.

 

As for wanting likes yes I only post on here to see my "likes" go up. In fact if they did away with the like system I wouldn't even keep dogs any more ???

 

Fair play to everyone else who's commented. Some good ones lads.

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