| Lyrics: | Polly Vaughn
So come all you young sportsman, that carry a gun
I will have you go
home by the light of the sun,
For young Jimmy was a-fowling, was a-fowling alone.
When he
shot his own true-love in the room of a swan.
So the first he went to her and found it
was she,
He was shaking and trembling, his eyes scarce could see,
"So now you are dead,
love, and your sorrows are o'er;
Fare thee well my dear Polly, l shall see you no
more."
Then home went young Jimmy with his dog and his gun,
Saying: "Uncle, dear
uncle, have you heard what I've done ?
Cursed be this old gunsmith that made me this
gun
For I've shot my own true-love in the room of a swan."
Then out come bold uncle
with his locks hanging grey,
Saying "Jimmy, dear Jimmy, don't you run away.
Don't you
leave your own counterie till the trial comes on,
For you ne'er shall be hanged for the crime
you has done."
So the trial came on and pretty Polly appear,
Saying : "Uncle, dear
uncle let Jimmy go clear,
For my apron was wrapped round me when he took me for a
swan,
And his poor heart lay bleeding for Polly his own."
from singing of Harry Cox,
Folk Songs of Britain vol. 7, Topic
@animal @murder @death @bird
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