THE BOLD POACHER.

When I was bound ‘prentice in fair Lincolnshire,
I served my master for nearly seven year,
Till I got up to poaching, as quickly you shall hear,
It was my delight in a shiny night, in the season of the year.

As I and my bold comrades were setting of a snare,
The game keeper was watching us, for him we did not care,
For I could wrestle, or fight, my boys, or jump over any wher,
It was my delight in a shiny night, in the season of the year.

As I and my bold comrades were setting four or five,
And going to take them up again, we found a hare alive,
I have her in the bag, my boys, and through the woods we steer,
It was my delight in a shiny night, in the season of the year.

I hung her over my shoulder, and rambled into the town,
I callèd at a neighbour’s house, and sold her for a crown,
I sold her for a crown my boys, but I’ll not tell you where,
It was my delight, in a shiny night, in the season of the year.

Here’s to every poacher that lives in Lincolnshire,
And here’s to every gamekeeper, that wants to buy a hare,
But not every keeper that wants to keep his deer,
It was my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.

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