And helped himself plentiful-ly.
Just then there chanced to be cocking his eye
Uncle Sam’s head-keeper, J. B.,
Who caught the bold Fowler poaching so sly,
All under the greenwood tree, tree, tree,
All under the greenwood tree.
“Oh, what are you doing?” the head-keeper cried,
“You son of a gun!” cried he;
“I’ll have you taken, and bound, and tied,
By the laws of this great countree, ree, ree,