Digital Tradition Mirror

Bold Reynard

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Bold Reynard

A good many gentlemen take great delight
In hunting bold Reynard, the fox
For the very best food he does eat in the night
And lives upon fat geese and ducks
In ash-pit or copse I did lie
And I lived an extraord'nary rate
In picking the bones of young lambs
Till the farmers they all me did hate

All for my lord's horses and hounds they did send
And the huntsman he swore I must die
They made all the hair on my coat stand on end
And caused me from my young ones to fly
All down Stony Lane they did run me
And I gave them a very good race
When I entered the wood I did rest
Then the dogs they got forward a pace

All through the wild woods they gave chase, and did gain
And the gamekeeper saw me go by,
They chased me out into the wild open plain
'Twas then that he fired at my thigh.
'Twas in Stony fields they did kill me
Those bloodthirsty dogs did me follow,
They tore my old coat all in oieces,
And it caused the glad huntsmen to holler.

O, pardon, dear huntsman, for I've spoiled your game
And the keeper has caused me to die
But I've left little brothers of mine to remain
That love little lambs better than I
O now that bold Reynard is dead
We'll go to The Dolphin and dine
And we'll dip his fore-foot in a bumper
And drink our lord's health in good wine

From Folksongs of Britain and Ireland, Kennedy

Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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