A field in common share
  A Partridge and a Hare,
  And live in peaceful state,
  Till, woeful to relate!
  The hunters mingled cry
  Compels the Hare to fly.
  He hurries to his fort,
  And spoils almost the sport
  By faulting every hound
  That yelps upon the ground.
  At last his reeking heat
  Betrays his snug retreat.
  Old Tray, with philosophic nose,
  Snuffs carefully, and grows
  So certain, that he cries,
  "The Hare is here; bow wow!"
  And veteran Ranger now—
  The dog that never li............