Hunting Girl

Thank you, thank you
Now to finally lay to rest any ugly rumors that John Glascock
Is a kinky bastard who likes being thrashed severely across the bum
We'll do it only very slightly in the next song
It's dedicated to a young lady very much into the equestrian persuits
It's all about a Hunting Girl, a Hunting Girl, ah, ha
One, two, three, four


One day I walked the road and crossed a field
To go by where the hounds ran hard
And on the master raced, behind the hunters chased
To where the path was barred
One fine young lady's horse refused the fence to clear
I unlocked the gate but she did wait until the pack had disappeared

Crop handle carved in bone
Sat high upon a throne of finest English leather
The queen of all the pack
This joker raised his hat and talked about the weather
All should be warned about this high born hunting girl
She took this simple man's downfall in hand
I raised the flag that she unfurled

Boot leather flashing with spurnecks the size of my thumb
This highborn hunter had tastes as strange as they come, come

Unbridled passion, I took the bit in my teeth
Her standing over, me on my knees underneath, underneath
La, la, la, la

My lady, be discrete, I must get to my feet
And go back to the farm
Whilst I appreciate you are no deviate
I might come to some harm
I'm not inclined to acts refined, if that's how it goes
Oh, high born hunting girl, I'm just a normal low born so and so