Song parody of
The Fowler (feat. Jackie Oates & Lukas Drinkwater)
by Jon Wilks
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Well, come all you bold fellows who handle a gun
I would have you come home by the light of the sun
For young Jimmer was a-fowling, and a fowling alone
And he shot his own true love by the light of the sun
When Polly was walking in a shower of rain
Well, she stopped by a green bush, her beauty to save
With her apron wrapped 'round her, well he's took her for a swan
And he shot his own true love by the light of the sun
When first he's come to her and he found it was she
He was shaking and trembling, his eyes couldn't see
For now you are dead love, and your sorrows are o'er
Fair thee well my dear Polly, I'll see you no more
Well, home ran young Jimmer with his dog and his gun
Crying uncle, dear uncle, d'you see what I've done?
Cursed be the old blacksmith who made me this gun
'Cause I've shot my own true love by the light of the sun
Well, up spoke his uncle, his locks hanging grey
Saying, Jimmer, oh Jimmer, don't you run away
Don't you leave this old country 'til your trial it comes on
For you never will hang for the death of a swan
When his trial it's come on Polly's ghost did appear
Crying honor, your honor, let Jimmer go clear
With my apron wrappen 'round me, well he's took me for a swan
Now his poor heart lies bleeding for Polly his own
Well, come all you bold fellows who handle a gun
I would have you come home by the light of the sun
For young Jimmer was a-fowling, and a fowling alone
And he shot his own true love by the light of the sun
When Polly was walking in a shower of rain
Well, she stopped by a green bush, her beauty to save
With her apron wrapped 'round her, well he's took her for a swan
And he shot his own true love by the light of the sun
When first he's come to her and he found it was she
He was shaking and trembling, his eyes couldn't see
For now you are dead love, and your sorrows are o'er
Fair thee well my dear Polly, I'll see you no more
Well, home ran young Jimmer with his dog and his gun
Crying uncle, dear uncle, d'you see what I've done?
Cursed be the old blacksmith who made me this gun
'Cause I've shot my own true love by the light of the sun
Well, up spoke his uncle, his locks hanging grey
Saying, Jimmer, oh Jimmer, don't you run away
Don't you leave this old country 'til your trial it comes on
For you never will hang for the death of a swan
When his trial it's come on Polly's ghost did appear
Crying honor, your honor, let Jimmer go clear
With my apron wrappen 'round me, well he's took me for a swan
Now his poor heart lies bleeding for Polly his own
