COME, all you gallant poaching lads, and gan alang with me,

And let's away to Sledmere woods, some game for to see;

It's far and near, and what they say it's more to feel than see,

So come, my gallant poaching lads, and gan alang with me.

We are all brave poaching lads, our names we dare not tell,

And if we meet the keeper, boys, we'll make his head to swell.

On the fifth of November last, it being a star-light night,

The time it was appointed, boys, that we were all to meet,

When at twelve o'clock at midnight, boys, we all did fire a gun,

And soon, my lads, it's we did hear, old hares begin to run.

We have a dog, they call him Sharp, he Sledmere woods did stray,

The keeper he fell in with him and fain would him betray;

He fired two barrels at the dog, intending him to kill,

But by his strength and speed of foot he tript across the hill.

All on one side and both his thighs he wounded him full sore,

Before we reached home that night with blood was covered o'er;

On recovering of his strength again, revenged for evermore,

There's never a hare shall him escape that runs on Sledmere shore.

We have a lad, they call him Jim, he's lame on all one leg,

Soon as the gun is shoulder'd up, his leg begins to wag;

When the gun presented fire, and the bird came tumbling down,

This lad he kick'd him with his club before he reached the ground.

We landed into Cherry woods; we went straight up the walk;

We peak'd the pheasants in the trees, so softly we did talk;

We mark'd all out, what we did see, till we return'd again,

For we were going to Colleywoodbro' to fetch away the game.

Come, all you gallant poaching lads, if I must have my will,

Before we try to shoot this night let's try some hares to kill;

For shooting, you very well know, it makes terrible sound,

So if we shoot before we hunt we shall disturb the ground.

We landed into Suddaby fields, to set we did begin,

Our dog he was so restless there, we scarce could keep him in;

But when our dog we did let loose, 'tis true they call him Watch,

And before we left that ground that night he fifteen hares did catch.

So it's eight cock-pheasants and five hens, all these we marked right well,

We never fired gun that night but down a pheasant fell.

So now, my lads, it's we'll gan yam, we'll take the nearest way,

And if we meet a keeper bold his body we will bray;

For we are all bright Sledmere lads, our names we will not tell,

But if we meet a keeper bold his head we'll make to swell.

So come, you poaching lads, who love to hunt the game,

And let us fix a time when we will meet again;

For at Colleywoodbro' there's plenty of game, but we'll gan no more,

The next port shall be Kirby Hill where hares do run by scores.