As I trekked the old hunting track
The ancient oaks awoke,
Through the howls of the hunting pack
I heard as each other spoke.

Echoes of the ivory horn
Like a vicious lightning crack,
Split through tree, bramble and thorn
To warn of the bastards attack.

The twangs of bows
The whistle of arrows,
Row after row
As they chase the fallow.

A land steeped in history
Wilder than the wolf hounds,
Full of lore and mystery
These were William the bastards hunting grounds.


© DT