On a young huntsman keen to show some sport.
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y, Hell was thick with captains, and I rodeThe lumbering brute that’s beat in half a mile,And blunders into every blind old ditch. Hell was the coldest scenting land I’ve known,“And both my whips were always lost, and houndsWould never get their heads down; and a manOn a great yawing chestnut trying to cast emWhile I was in a corner pounded by
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