Classic Poem

When I was bound apprentice, in famous Lincolnshire,
Full well I served my master for more than seven year,
Till I took up 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 of a snare,
'Twas then we spied the game-keeper, for him we did not care.
For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, and jump out any where;
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 caught a hare alive.
We took the hare alive, my boys, and through the wood did steer:
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.

I threw him on my shoulder, and then we trudgèd home,
We took him to a neighbour's house and sold him for a crown,
We sold him 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,
Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare,
Bad luck to every game-keeper that will not sell his deer:
Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.