  A Fowler one morning a poaching would go, “I’m in for a bagful,” quoth he; So in Uncle Sam’s manor he shot high and low, And helped himself plentiful-ly, lee, lee, And helped himself plentiful-ly. Just then there chanced to be cocking his eye Uncle Sam’s head-keeper, J. B., Who caught the bold Fowler poaching so sly, All under the greenwood tree, tree, tree, All under the greenwood tree. “Oh, what are you doing?” the head-keeper cried, “You son of a gun!” cried he; “I’ll have you taken, and bound, and tied, By the laws of this great countree, ree, ree, By the laws of this great countree.” “Hush! hush! not a word!” the Fowler he said, “You’ll do no such a thing,” said he; “For out of this game my friends shall be fed, And you shall be first, d’ye see? see? see? And you shall be first, d’ye see?” So a bargain was straightway struck between The Fowler and sly J. B., And many a year, in the forest green, They feasted right loving-ly, lee, lee, But after a while the keeper grew old, “And not so fit is he,” Said Uncle Sam, “as the Douglas bold, My forester for to be, be, be, My forester for to be.” So the Fowler bethought him to take his game No longer to ancient J. B., And straight to the friends of the Douglas he came, As they gathered in Charleston cit-y, tee, tee, As they gathered in Charleston cit-y. “Ho! ho!” quoth the keeper, “if that’s your way, My day is not out,” quoth he; And straight to his master he said his say, With a semblance of great hones-ty, tee, tee, With a semblance of great hones-ty. “A Fowler your manor is poaching upon!” “Very well, then,” said Samuel, said he: “Go seize the vile caitiff, Isaiah and John, And hang him on yonder tree, tree, tree, And hang him on yonder tree!” So the Fowler was caught at his poaching at last, And the moral is plain to see: Be off with old friendships ere new ones are fast, And look out for the wrath of J. B., B., B., And look out for the wrath of J. B. |
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