This is the game of our hearts !
Foot to the stirrup ! Away !
Care with the night departs,
Joy comes in with the day.
A good horse tossing his rings,
A light rime decking the thorn :
And the heart of the horseman sings
For love of a hunting morn.
This is the game of our hearts !
Mottled flanks in the fern ;
Rate where a rabbit starts.
Cheer to a waving stern ;
Call that we rush to obey
From a Whip at his post outside ;
Cone away I Gone aw-a-a-ay I
And we sit down to ride.
This is the game of our hearts !
Crash and rattle of rail ;
Lean hounds driving like darts
Into the breast of the vale
Tried Age taking the lead,
Rash Youth coated with clay ;
Glory and glamour of speed,
And a right fox away.
This is the game of our hearts,
Whatever luck may ensue
This, where a Master of Arts
May fail and a dunce get through !
This, where the confident thrust ;
This, where the cowardly crane ;
This, where there 's nothing to trust
But fate and the feel of the rein.
This is the game of our hearts !
Squire and lawyer and lord.
Men of the farms and the marts,
Men of the pen and the sword ;
Comrades we jog to the meet.
Rivals we ride the line.
And the sound of the hoofs is sweet
And the taste of the wind is wine.
