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On the fourteenth of May at the dawn of the day |
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With my gun on my shoulder to the woods I did stray |
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In search of some game if the weather proved fair |
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To see could I get a shot at the bonny black hare |
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Oh, I met a young girl there with her face as a rose |
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And her skin was as fair as the lily that blows |
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I says "My fair maiden, why ramble you so? |
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Can you tell me where the bonny black hare do go?" |
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Oh, the answer she gave me, her answer was "No |
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But it's under me apron they say it do go |
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And if you'll not deceive me I vow and declare |
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We'll both go together to hunt the bonny black hare" |
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Well, I laid this girl down with her face to the skies |
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And I took out my ramrod and my bullets likewise |
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I says "Lock your legs round me and dig in with your heels |
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For the closer we get, oh, the better it feels" |
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The birds they were singing in the bushes and trees |
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And the song that they sang was "Oh, she's easy to please" |
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I felt her heart quiver and I knew what I'd done |
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Says I "Have you had enough of my old sporting gun?" |
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Oh, the answer she gave me, her answer was "Nay |
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It's not often young sportsmen like you come this way |
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And if your powder is willing and your bullets play fair |
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Why don't you keep firing at the bonny black hare?" |
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"Oh, my powder is wasted and my bullets all gone |
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My ramrod is limp and I cannot fire on |
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But I'll be back in the morning and if you are still here |
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We'll both go together to hunt the bonny black hare" |