“Tho’ hoarfrost lingered in the shade, and rime lay white in copse and glade, upon the winter landscape played a sun as mild as May.  With trampling hoof and stirrup clink the lanes beneath them rang; whole hamlets ran to watch them prink in brown and yellow, black and pink; blithely they laughed and sang……………………………………And the labourer at work, and the lord in his hall, have a jest or a smile when they hear of the sport, In ale or in claret he’s toasted by all, for they never expect to see more of the sort and long may it be ere he’s forced to retire for we breed very few like the Galloping Squire!”

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