All their charity forsook them at once.
'Possess thyself of the truncheon,' said Guy: 'You see it can damage.
More work before breakfast, and a fine account I must give of myself to
my hostess of the Three Holy Kings!'
Farina recovered the destructive little instrument.
'I am ready,' said he. 'But hark! there's little work for us there, I
fancy. Those be lads of Cologne, no grunters of the wild. 'Tis the White
Rose Club. Always too late for service.'
Voices singing a hunting glee, popular in that age, swelled up the clear
morning air; and gradually the words became distinct.
The Kaiser went a-hunting,
A-hunting, tra-ra:
With his bugle-horn at springing morn,
The Kaiser trampled bud and thorn:
Tra-ra!
And the dew shakes green as the horsemen rear,
And a thousand feathers they flutter with fear;
And a pang drives quick to the heart of the deer;
For the Kaiser's out a-hunting,
Tra-ra!
Ta, ta, ta, ta,
Tra-ra, tra-ra,
Ta-ta, tra-ra, tra-ra!
the owner of the truncheon awoke to these reviving tones, and uttered a
faint responsive 'Tra-ra!'
'Hark again!' said Farina, in reply to the commendation of the Goshawk,
whose face was dimpled over with the harmony.
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