MELTON: PRIDE OF THE SHIRES

Old Melton Mowbray, pride of the shires,
To talk of thy sporting days one never tires;
Thy fine hunting boxes for years have they stood,
And harboured amongst us the bluest of blood.
The horses you stable are the pick of the world,
Are talked of wherever our flag is unfurled;
Many that ride them are steel to the core,
They can hunt a good fox - are heroes in war
Some have died at the front, shedding their blood,
For King and for Country, like poor Gordon Wood;
They are ready and willing, hard always and fit
To put off the Scarlet, and don Kharki and Kit.
In South Africa many a night by the fires,
Talked of jolly old Melton - "pride of the Shires."
Or with hands in their pockets, to open the purse,
To help a good cause, or pay for a nurse.
We are proud of our Gentry! deny it who can!
There is nothing like blood in horse or in man.
This book it will travel to far distant lands
And be passed on in time through dozen of hands
So on a cold winter's night, with grog by your fires,
Drink "Success to Old Melton," the pride of the Shires.