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To the memory of David W E Brock, MFH

Hike, Hike to Balance!

Let me hear once more, as he throws hounds in
Deep in the valley of birch and whin
Bracken beds there - a litter was born
Alerts all ears with a touch of the horn
Flash of bright scarlet as he crosses a ride
Fine bay hunter turned out with such pride
“lieu-in my beauties!” - his voice echos back
And high on the wind a piercing whip-crack
See the old bitch is feathering, she knows there’s a fox
she opens her voice, way high in the rocks
And the Master cries: Hike, hike to Balance!

Ancient covert ringing, 20 couples in full cry
dog fox afoot now; crashing music way up high
He’d travelled many miles to be suitor and mate
But nature says – ‘go now’; or surely suffer your fate
How merrily the master cheers hounds, melodious on the horn
Hound voices chime together, on a still, bright morn
They’re close and full on at him; yet he forces hounds to check
But the old bitch has fox sense, and crosses the beck
And the Master cries: Hike, Hike to Balance!