TCDE-Team at 20:39, 4 April 2026

2026-04-04T20:39:07Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:39, 4 April 2026
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	''With the Chiddingfolds'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Speaker\|The Speaker: The Liberal Review]] on 1 january 1898.		''With the Chiddingfolds'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Speaker\|The Speaker: The Liberal Review]] on 1 january 1898.


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	[[File:the-speaker-1898-01-01-p20-21-with-the-chiddingfolds.jpg\|thumb\|250px\|right\|[[The Speaker]] (1 january 1898, p. 20-21)]]		[[File:the-speaker-1898-01-01-p20-21-with-the-chiddingfolds.jpg\|thumb\|250px\|right\|[[The Speaker]] (1 january 1898, p. 20-21)]]

	The horse is bedded down~~<br />~~		<poem>
	Where the straw lies deep.~~<br />~~		The horse is bedded down
	The hound is in the kennel;~~<br />~~		Where the straw lies deep.
	Let the poor hound sleep!~~<br />~~		The hound is in the kennel;
	And the fox is in the spinney~~<br />~~		Let the poor hound sleep!
	By the run which he is haunting,~~<br />~~		And the fox is in the spinney
	And I'll lay an even guinea~~<br />~~		By the run which he is haunting,
	That a goose or two is wanting~~<br />~~		And I'll lay an even guinea
			That a goose or two is wanting
	When the farmer comes to count them in the morning.		When the farmer comes to count them in the morning.

	The horse is up and saddled;~~<br />~~		The horse is up and saddled;
	Girth the old horse tight!~~<br />~~		Girth the old horse tight!
	The hounds are out and drawing~~<br />~~		The hounds are out and drawing
	In the morning light.~~<br />~~		In the morning light.
	Now it's 'Yoick!' among the heather,~~<br />~~		Now it's 'Yoick!' among the heather,
	And it's 'Yoick!' across the clover,~~<br />~~		And it's 'Yoick!' across the clover,
	And it's 'To him, all together!'~~<br />~~		And it's 'To him, all together!'
	'Hyke a Bertha! Hyke a Rover!'~~<br />~~		'Hyke a Bertha! Hyke a Rover!'
	And the woodlands smell so sweetly in the morning.		And the woodlands smell so sweetly in the morning.

	'There's Termagant a-whimpering;~~<br />~~		'There's Termagant a-whimpering;
	She whimpers so.'~~<br />~~		She whimpers so.'
	'There's a young hound yapping!'~~<br />~~		'There's a young hound yapping!'
	Let the young hound go!~~<br />~~		Let the young hound go!
	But the old hound is cunning,~~<br />~~		But the old hound is cunning,
	And it's him we mean to follow,~~<br />~~		And it's him we mean to follow,
	'They are running! They are running!~~<br />~~		'They are running! They are running!
	And it's 'Forrard to the hollo!'~~<br />~~		And it's 'Forrard to the hollo!'
	For the scent is lying strongly in the morning.		For the scent is lying strongly in the morning.

	'Who's the fool that heads him?'~~<br />~~		'Who's the fool that heads him?'
	Hold hard, and let him pass!~~<br />~~		Hold hard, and let him pass!
	He's out among the oziers~~<br />~~		He's out among the oziers
	He's clear upon the grass.~~<br />~~		He's clear upon the grass.
	You grip his flanks and settle,~~<br />~~		You grip his flanks and settle,
	For the horse is stretched and straining,~~<br />~~		For the horse is stretched and straining,
	Here's a game to test your mettle,~~<br />~~		Here's a game to test your mettle,
	And a sport to try your training,~~<br />~~		And a sport to try your training,
	When the Chiddingfolds are running in the morning.		When the Chiddingfolds are running in the morning.

	We're up by the Coppice~~<br />~~		We're up by the Coppice
	And we're down by the Mill,~~<br />~~		And we're down by the Mill,
	We're out upon the Common,~~<br />~~		We're out upon the Common,
	And the hounds are running still.~~<br />~~		And the hounds are running still.
	You must tighten on the leather,~~<br />~~		You must tighten on the leather,
	For we blunder through the bracken;~~<br />~~		For we blunder through the bracken;
	Though you're over hocks in heather~~<br />~~		Though you're over hocks in heather
	Still the pace must never slacken~~<br />~~		Still the pace must never slacken
	As we race through Thursley Common in the morning.		As we race through Thursley Common in the morning.

	We are breaking from the tangle~~<br />~~		We are breaking from the tangle
	We are out upon the green,~~<br />~~		We are out upon the green,
	There's a bank and a hurdle~~<br />~~		There's a bank and a hurdle
	With a quickset between.~~<br />~~		With a quickset between.
	You must steady him and try it,~~<br />~~		You must steady him and try it,
	You are over with a scramble.~~<br />~~		You are over with a scramble.
	Here's a wattle! You must fly it,~~<br />~~		Here's a wattle! You must fly it,
	And you land among the bramble,~~<br />~~		And you land among the bramble,
	For it's roughish, toughish going in the morning.		For it's roughish, toughish going in the morning.

	'Ware the bog by the Grove~~<br />~~		'Ware the bog by the Grove
	As you pound through the slush.~~<br />~~		As you pound through the slush.
	See the whip! See the huntsman!~~<br />~~		See the whip! See the huntsman!
	We are close upon his brush.~~<br />~~		We are close upon his brush.
	'Ware the root that lies before you!~~<br />~~		'Ware the root that lies before you!
	It will trip you if you blunder.~~<br />~~		It will trip you if you blunder.
	'Ware the branch that's drooping o'er you!~~<br />~~		'Ware the branch that's drooping o'er you!
	You must dip and swerve from under~~<br />~~		You must dip and swerve from under
	As you gallop through the woodland in the morning.		As you gallop through the woodland in the morning.

	There were fifty at the find,~~<br />~~		There were fifty at the find,
	There were forty at the mill,~~<br />~~		There were forty at the mill,
	There were twenty on the heath,~~<br />~~		There were twenty on the heath,
	And ten are going still.~~<br />~~		And ten are going still.
	Some are pounded, some are shirking,~~<br />~~		Some are pounded, some are shirking,
	And they dwindle and diminish~~<br />~~		And they dwindle and diminish
	Till a weary pair are working,~~<br />~~		Till a weary pair are working,
	Spent and blowing, to the finish,~~<br />~~		Spent and blowing, to the finish,
	And we hear the shrill whoo-ooping in the morning.		And we hear the shrill whoo-ooping in the morning.

	The horse is bedded down~~<br />~~		The horse is bedded down
	Where the straw lies deep,~~<br />~~		Where the straw lies deep,
	The hound is in the kennel,~~<br />~~		The hound is in the kennel,
	He is yapping in his sleep.~~<br />~~		He is yapping in his sleep.
	But the fox is in the spinney~~<br />~~		But the fox is in the spinney
	Lying snug in earth and burrow.~~<br />~~		Lying snug in earth and burrow.
	And I'll lay an even guinea~~<br />~~		And I'll lay an even guinea
	We could find again to-morrow,~~<br />~~		We could find again to-morrow,
	If we chose to go a-hunting in the morning.		If we chose to go a-hunting in the morning.
			</poem>

TCDE-Team at 17:03, 1 July 2022

2022-07-01T17:03:33Z

New page

''With the Chiddingfolds'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Speaker|The Speaker: The Liberal Review]] on 1 january 1898.

__TOC__

== Editions ==

* in ''[[The Speaker]]'' (1 january 1898 [UK])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (1898-1916, [[Smith, Elder & Co.]] [UK])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (august 1898, [[Charles Scribner's Sons]] [US])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (september 1898, [[Doubleday & McClure Co.|Doubleday, Page & Co.]] [US])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (1918-1920, [[John Murray]] [UK])
* in ''[[The Poems of Arthur Conan Doyle]]'' (1922-1928, [[John Murray]] [UK])

== With the Chiddingfolds ==
[[File:the-speaker-1898-01-01-p20-21-with-the-chiddingfolds.jpg|thumb|250px|right|[[The Speaker]] (1 january 1898, p. 20-21)]]

The horse is bedded down 
Where the straw lies deep. 
The hound is in the kennel; 
Let the poor hound sleep! 
And the fox is in the spinney 
By the run which he is haunting, 
And I'll lay an even guinea 
That a goose or two is wanting 
When the farmer comes to count them in the morning.

The horse is up and saddled; 
Girth the old horse tight! 
The hounds are out and drawing 
In the morning light. 
Now it's 'Yoick!' among the heather, 
And it's 'Yoick!' across the clover, 
And it's 'To him, all together!' 
'Hyke a Bertha! Hyke a Rover!' 
And the woodlands smell so sweetly in the morning.

'There's Termagant a-whimpering; 
She whimpers so.' 
'There's a young hound yapping!' 
Let the young hound go! 
But the old hound is cunning, 
And it's him we mean to follow, 
'They are running! They are running! 
And it's 'Forrard to the hollo!' 
For the scent is lying strongly in the morning.

'Who's the fool that heads him?' 
Hold hard, and let him pass! 
He's out among the oziers 
He's clear upon the grass. 
You grip his flanks and settle, 
For the horse is stretched and straining, 
Here's a game to test your mettle, 
And a sport to try your training, 
When the Chiddingfolds are running in the morning.

We're up by the Coppice 
And we're down by the Mill, 
We're out upon the Common, 
And the hounds are running still. 
You must tighten on the leather, 
For we blunder through the bracken; 
Though you're over hocks in heather 
Still the pace must never slacken 
As we race through Thursley Common in the morning.

We are breaking from the tangle 
We are out upon the green, 
There's a bank and a hurdle 
With a quickset between. 
You must steady him and try it, 
You are over with a scramble. 
Here's a wattle! You must fly it, 
And you land among the bramble, 
For it's roughish, toughish going in the morning.

'Ware the bog by the Grove 
As you pound through the slush. 
See the whip! See the huntsman! 
We are close upon his brush. 
'Ware the root that lies before you! 
It will trip you if you blunder. 
'Ware the branch that's drooping o'er you! 
You must dip and swerve from under 
As you gallop through the woodland in the morning.

There were fifty at the find, 
There were forty at the mill, 
There were twenty on the heath, 
And ten are going still. 
Some are pounded, some are shirking, 
And they dwindle and diminish 
Till a weary pair are working, 
Spent and blowing, to the finish, 
And we hear the shrill whoo-ooping in the morning.

The horse is bedded down 
Where the straw lies deep, 
The hound is in the kennel, 
He is yapping in his sleep. 
But the fox is in the spinney 
Lying snug in earth and burrow. 
And I'll lay an even guinea 
We could find again to-morrow, 
If we chose to go a-hunting in the morning.

----
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:Complete Works|Back to Complete Works]]
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle|Back to Conan Doyle]]

With the Chiddingfolds - Revision history

TCDE-Team at 20:39, 4 April 2026

TCDE-Team at 17:03, 1 July 2022