Come all you young fellows that carry a gun,
I'll have you come home by the light of the sun.
For young Jimmy was a fowler, and a-fowling alone,
When he shot his own true love in the room of a swan.
As Polly went out in a shower of hail,
She crept unto the bushes herself to conceal
With her apron thrown over her, and he took her for a swan,
With a shot in the dark he killed Polly his own.
Then home rushed young Jimmy with his dog and his gun,
Crying, “Uncle, dear uncle, have you heard what I've done?
O cursed be that old gunsmith that made my old gun,
For I've shot my own true love in the room of a swan!”
Then out rushed bold uncle with his locks hanging grey,
Crying, “Jimmy, dear Jimmy, don't you run away.
O don't you leave your own country till your trial do come on,
For they never would hang you for shooting a swan.”
Now the girls of this country, they're all glad we know,
To see Polly Vaughan a-lying so low.
You could gather them into a mountain, you could plant them in a row,
And her beauty'd shine among them like a fountain of snow.
Well, in six weeks time the assizes were on
And Polly did appear in the form of a swan,
Crying, “Uncle, dearest uncle, let Jimmy go clear,
For he never should be hung for shooting his dear.”
I'll have you come home by the light of the sun.
For young Jimmy was a fowler, and a-fowling alone,
When he shot his own true love in the room of a swan.
As Polly went out in a shower of hail,
She crept unto the bushes herself to conceal
With her apron thrown over her, and he took her for a swan,
With a shot in the dark he killed Polly his own.
Then home rushed young Jimmy with his dog and his gun,
Crying, “Uncle, dear uncle, have you heard what I've done?
O cursed be that old gunsmith that made my old gun,
For I've shot my own true love in the room of a swan!”
Then out rushed bold uncle with his locks hanging grey,
Crying, “Jimmy, dear Jimmy, don't you run away.
O don't you leave your own country till your trial do come on,
For they never would hang you for shooting a swan.”
Now the girls of this country, they're all glad we know,
To see Polly Vaughan a-lying so low.
You could gather them into a mountain, you could plant them in a row,
And her beauty'd shine among them like a fountain of snow.
Well, in six weeks time the assizes were on
And Polly did appear in the form of a swan,
Crying, “Uncle, dearest uncle, let Jimmy go clear,
For he never should be hung for shooting his dear.”
×
![]()
