The quietude of a deep winters morn

Before the hounds and the hunting horn

When mist lingers in the lows

Blue shadows retreat across the moor

As the sun reaches above the tor

As the peaceful river flows

Beneath old Delphi bridge

The 11’o clock meet draws near

The air is cold and the skies are clear

In distant fields the trail is laid

Horses are readied and girth is tightened

Port is opened and the spirits are heightened

Into the blue bag the cap is paid

By old Delphi bridge

Reflections fall on eddies below

A mirror image on the surface bestow

A chorus of echoing sounds

A flash of scarlet and white

The hounds now coming into sight

Pounding hooves, bounding hounds

Over old Delphi bridge