| 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 grows
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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 grow?»
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| Oh, the answer she gave me, her answer was «No But it’s under me apron they say it do grow
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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 sky
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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 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» |