It's far and near, and what they say it's more to feel than see,
So come, my gallant poaching lads, and gan alang with me.
Chorus.
We are all brave poaching lads, our names we dare not tell,
And if we meet the keeper, boys, we'll make his head to swell.
On the fifth of November last, it being a star-light night,
The time it was appointed, boys, that we were all to meet,
When at twelve o'clock at midnight, boys, we all did fire a gun,
And soon, my lads, it's we did hear, old hares begin to run.