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 And so in that way have we even 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
Seeking 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 chasing 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 kings 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 snowTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
