Underneath the windy mountain walls Forth we rode, an eager band, By the surges and the verges and the gorges, Till the night was on the land -- On the hazy, mazy land! Far away the bounding prey Leapt across the ruts and logs, But we galloped, galloped, galloped on, Till we heard the yapping of the dogs -- The yapping and the yelping of the dogs. Oh, it was a madly merry day We shall not so soon forget, And the edges and the ledges and the ridges Haunt us with their echoes yet -- Echoes, echoes, echoes yet! While the moon is on the hill Gleaming through the streaming fogs, Don't you hear the yapping of the dogs -- The yapping and the yelping of the dogs? |