“Those boots were Tom Moody’s (a better ne’er strode A hunter or hack, in the field—on the road— None more true to his friend, or his bottle when full, In short, you may call him a thorough John Bull).
“Now this world you must own’s a strange compound of fate, (A kind of tee-to-turn resembling of late) Where hope promised joy _there_ will sorrow be found, And the vessel best trimm’d is oft soonest aground.
“I’ve come in for my share of ‘Take-up’ and ‘Put-down,’ And that rogue, Disappointment, oft makes me look brown, And then (you may sneer and look wise if you will) From those old pair of boots I can comfort distil.
“I but cast my eyes on them and old Willey Hall Is before me again, with its ivy-crown’d wall, Its brook of soft murmurs—its rook-laden trees, The gilt vane on its dovecot swung round by the breeze.
“I see its old owner descend from the door, I feel his warm grasp as I felt it of yore; Whilst old servants crowd round—as they once us’d to do, And their old smiles of welcome beam on me anew.
“I am in the old bedroom that looks on the lawn, The old cock is crowing to herald the dawn; There! old Jerry is rapping, and hark how he hoots, ‘’Tis past five o’clock, Tom, and here are your boots.’
“I am in the old homestead, and here comes ‘old Jack,’ And old Stephens has help’d Master George to his back; Whilst old _Childers_, old _Pilot_, and little _Blue-boar_ Lead the merry-tongued hounds through the old kennel door.
“I’m by the old wood, and I hear the old cry— ‘Od’s rat ye dogs—wind him! Hi! Nimble, lad, hi!’ I see the old fox steal away through the gap, Whilst old Jack cheers the hounds with his old velvet cap.
“I’m seated again by my old grandad’s chair, Around me old friends and before me old fare; Every guest is a sportsman, and scarlet his suit, And each leg ’neath the table is cas’d in a boot.
“I hear the old toasts and the old songs again, ‘_Old Maiden_’—‘_Tom Moody_’—‘_Poor Jack_’—‘_Honest Ben_;’ I drink the old wine, and I hear the old call— ‘Clean glasses, fresh bottles, and _pipes_ for us all.’”
Dibdin’s Song—Dibdin and the Squire good fellows well met—Moody a Character after Dibdin’s own heart—The Squire’s Gift—Incledon—The Shropshire Fox-hunters on the Stage at Drury Lane.