Classic Poem

Abram Bailey he'd three sons
Blow your horn, Center.
And he is to the wildwood gone
Just like a jovial hunter.

As he marched down the greenwood side,
Blown your horn, Center.
A pretty girl there he spied
As he was a jovial hunter.

"There is a wild boar all in these woods,"
Blow your horn, Center.
"He slew the lord and his forty men,"
As you are the jovial hunter.

"How can I this wild boar see?"
Blow your horn, Center.
"Wind up your horn and he'll come to you,
As you are the jovial hunter."

He wound his horn unto his mouth,
Blow your horn, Center.
He blew East, North, West, and South
As he was a jovial hunter.

The wild boar heared him unto his den,
Blow your horn, Center.
He made the oak and ash down far to bend
As he was a jovial hunter.

They fit three hours by the day,
Blow your horn, Center.
And at length he this wild boar slay
As he was a jovial hunter.

As he marched by the mouth of the wild boar's den,
Blow your horn, Center.
He saw the bones of five hundred men
As he was a jovial hunter.

He meets the old witch-wife on the bridge,
Blow your horn, Center.
"Begone, you rogue, you've killed my pig,
As you are the jovial hunter."

"They is three things I crave of thee,"
Blow your horn, Center.
"Your hawk, your hound, and your gay ladie
As you are the jovial hunter."

"These three things you'll not have of me,"
Blow your horn, Center.
"Neither hawk, nor hound, nor gay ladie,"
As you are the jovial hunter.

He split the old witch-wife to the chin,
Blow your horn, Center.
And on his way he went agin,
Just like a jovial hunter.