Lyrics
As is usual with folk songs, the lyrics differ slightly between sources; but the following are typical:
When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire,
I serv'd my master truly, for nearly seven odd year,
Till I took up to poaching, as you shall quickly hear.
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.
As me and my companions were setting up a snare,
The gamekeeper was watching us – for him we did not care,
For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump o'er anywhere.
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.
As me and my companions were setting four or five,
And taking on 'em up again, we took a hare alive,
We plopped her into my bag, my boys, and through the woods did steer.
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.
We threw him over our shoulders, and wondered through the town,
We called into a neighbour's house, and sold her for a crown,
We sold her for a crown, my boys, but I did not tell you where.
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.
Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire (Or: Bad luck to every magistrate)
Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare,
Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer.
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.