I searched his wounds, and found them slight, Some keeper has done this out of spite; But I’ll take my pike-staff,—that’s the plan! I’ll range the woods till I find the man, And I’ll tan his hide right well,—if I can! I ranged the woods and groves all night, I ranged the woods till it proved daylight; The very first thing that then I found, Was a good fat buck that lay dead on the ground; I knew my dogs gave him his death-wound. I hired a butcher to skin the game, Likewise another to sell the same; The very first buck he offered for sale, Was to an old [hag] that sold bad ale, And she sent us three poor lads to gaol. The quarter sessions we soon espied, At which we all were for to be tried; The Chairman laughed the matter to scorn, He said the old woman was all forsworn, And unto pieces she ought to be torn. The sessions are over, and we are clear! The sessions are over, and we sit here, Singing fol de rol, la re da! The very best game I ever did see, Is a buck or a deer, but a deer for me! In Thornehagh-Moor woods this night we’ll be! Fol de rol, la re da! THE LINCOLNSHIRE POACHER. [THIS very old ditty has been transformed into the dialects of Somersetshire, Northamptonshire, and Leicestershire; but it properly belongs to Lincolnshire. Nor is this the only liberty that his been taken with it. The original tune is that of a Lancashire air, well known as _The Manchester Angel_; but a florid modern tune has been substituted. _The Lincolnshire Poacher_ was a favourite ditty with George IV., and it is said that he often had it sung for his amusement by a band of Berkshire ploughmen. He also commanded it to be sung at his harvest-homes, but we believe it was always on such occasions sung to the ‘playhouse tune,’ and not to the genuine music. It is often very difficult to trace the locality of countrymen’s songs, in consequence of the licence adopted by printers of changing the names of places to suit their own neighbourhoods; but there is no such difficulty about _The Lincolnshire Poacher_. The oldest copy we have seen, printed at York about 1776, reads ‘Lincolnshire,’ and it is only in very modern copies that the venue is removed to other counties. In the Somersetshire version the local vernacular is skilfully substituted for that of the original; but the deception may, nevertheless, be very easily detected.] WHEN I was bound apprentice, in famous Lincolnsheer, Full well I served my master for more than seven year, Till I took up with poaching, as you shall quickly hear:— Oh! ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year. As me and my comrades were setting of a snare, ’Twas then we seed the gamekeeper—for him we did not care, For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o’er everywhere:— Oh! ’tis my delight of a shiny night, in the season of the year.