Who Owns the Game
Pay attention you poachers wherever you be,
Can you answer my question and tell unto me
Who owns the wild hare that runs over the lea?
With a fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
Now a hare it may feed on a field for a day
And tomorrow quite likely be four fields away;
Yet the landowner tells you, 'She's my property',
And sings fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
And a pheasant may feed on a stubble nearby;
He'll fill up his crop and away he will fly,
Then he'll roost for the night in another man's tree,
With a fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
Now I say they're wild but the law don't agree,
And if I got caught poaching then lined I should be;
But I'll just take my chance for a dinner that's free,
And sing fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
My grandfather killed a pheasant in some parson's fir tree,
And was transported to some country far over the sea;
And he never came back, so my father told me,
With a fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
Now my father picked oakum for months two or three.
They were hard, hungry times for my mother and me;
We lived on pea soup, and 'taters and dumplings for tea,
And sang fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
'Never you be a poacher', my mother told me,
'Or locked up like your father you surely will be'.
Her tune changed when l snared a big hare for our tea:
She sang fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
Now the squire calls a shoot and goes off with his gun,
And the pheasants he shoots he just kills them for fun.
He's got no empty pantry just like you and me,
And sings fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
I snared my first rabbit before I was nine,
And if ever I'm caught, well, I'll pay up the fine;
And I'll still use rny gun for as long as I see,
And sing fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.