He ne’er miss’d a hare in his life;
And then in great trouble was he,
To get her safe home to his wife.
The next was John Walker, a tailor,
He thinking poor puss for to nap,
Indeed, he endeavour’d to kill her,
But his gun very often did snap.
But then making all things in order,
He at her let furiously drive;
Our serjeant was to have her tit supper,