The Poachers

In Harold's time the hunt was fine and the birds did sweetly sing
Then the Bastard came and all the game became the right of the king
But English lads saw sport to be had and swift to poaching turned
So in that way have we e'en today our pleasant supper earned

One for the partridge,
two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow
One for the partridge,
two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow

Hunting deer or hare in the
greenwoods fair, the King's own men do ride
But we Saxons few are a-hunting too though cleverly we hide
Time and again come the sheriff's
men hunting poachers 'round the shire
But our prey we've shot and we'll not
get caught as we feast around our fire

One for the partridge,
two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow
One for the partridge,
two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow

Many say that port is the finest sport, that poaching's far too cold
And they pass the year drinking
fine dark beer or else some whiskey bold
But they'll find that wine is the
thief of time and ale is a bitter foe
And the English man has no better friends than his arrows and his bow

One for the partridge,
two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow
One for the partridge,
two for the hare, and three for the buck and doe
The hunting of the good king's game shall feed us through the snow