| Concerning of three young men
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| One night in January
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| According laws contrary
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| A-poaching went straightway
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| They were inclined to ramble
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| Amongst the trees and brambles
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| A-firing at the pheasants
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| Which brought the keepers nigh
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| The keepers dared not enter
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| Nor cared the woods to venture
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| But outside near the centre
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| In them old bush they stood
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| The poachers they were tired
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| And to leave they were desired
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| At at last young Parkins fired
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| And spilled one keeper’s blood
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| Fast homeward they were making
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| Nine pheasants they were taking
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| When another keeper faced them
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| They fired at him also
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| He on the ground lay crying
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| Just like some person dying
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| With no assistance nigh him
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| May God forgive their crime
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| Then they were taken with speed
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| All for that inhuman deed
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| It caused their hearts to bleed
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| For their young tender years
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| There seen before was never
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| Three brothers tried together
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| Three brothers condemned for poaching
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| Found guilty as they stood
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| Exiled in transportation
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| Two brothers they were taken
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| And the other hung as a token
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| May God forgive their crime |