The dusky night rides down the sky,
⁠And ushers in the morn;
The hounds all join in glorious cry,
⁠The huntsman winds his horn.
Chorus—Then a hunting we will go, &c.

Sly Reynard, he like lightning flies,
⁠His cunning's wide awake;
To gain the race he eager tries,
⁠His forfeit life the stake.
⁠When a hunting we do go, &c.

​Away he goes, he flies, the rout
⁠Their steeds all spur and switch;
Some are thrown in, and some thrown out,
⁠And some lie in the ditch.
⁠But a hunting we will go, &c.

But now his strength to faintness worn,
⁠The hounds have seized their prey;
Then hungry, homewards we return,
⁠To hunt another day,
⁠When a hunting we will go, &c.