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Tally-ho ! tally-ho! the huntsman cries
As the pack on the scent he throws; Tally-ho ! each red-coat after him hies And o'er fallow and five-bar goes ;
But we, boys, we
Who ride the salt sea, A nobler sport we know
When the sail-packed mast
Strains to the blast In our chase of a scarce-seen foe.