Through yon little planting, by yonder streamside,
Where Ribble's sweet waters flow softly and wide,
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.

0 hear the glad music of horn and of hound;
0 hear how they welcome in day with the sound:
0 hear how the valley is loud with the strain
And the woodlands give answer with echo again.

Come rise up full soon, come rise up and go,
The mist's on the hill and the river runs low:
While the dew's on the meadows it's up and away
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.

Now Ribble, sun-chequered, slides joyfully down
Which late thro' the bridges roared foaming and brown:
Now hot lies the scent, and the morning is still, &mdash
Hark for'ard, good hounds, to a view and a kill!

A health to good fellowship fill we now high,
You true-hearted sportsmen afar and anigh,
Here's many a good chase when the morning is grey,
A-hunting the otter at break o' the day.