Our glorious chase has ended
Come sportsman join with me
To spend an hour of pleasure
In friendly social glee.

We'll drink success to Crozier
In Bumpers all around,
The prince of mountain sportsmen
And the Master of the Hounds.

The brave pack of Blencathra
Is free alike to all,
The peasant from the cottage
The Squire from the hall.

All are welcome here to follow
No thoroughbreds they need
But manly strength and daring
The mountain chase to lead.

Oh cheering is the holler
At early dawn of day
Which echoes through the mountains
Then slowly dies away.

Our deep-mouthed pack then answers
With chorus sweet and long
Which fills the distant hollows
And floats the hills among.

Oh who could but follow
When notes as sweet as these
Are sounding in the valley
And borne upon the breeze.

Of all the recreations
By which our lives are blest
The chase among the mountains
Is the purest and the best.

Now join with me in chorus
In praise of it to sing
The bold pack of Blencathra
Which makes the valleys ring.

To all true hearted sportsmen
A Bumper we will drain
And may we rouse to echo
Ten thousand times again.

J. Crozier, 1839—1903.
M.F.H., Blencathra