Ye subjects of England, come listen a while,
I will sing you a ditty that'll cause you to smile.
It's concerning some poachers and keepers also
That fought in these covers some winters ago.
"Now, when we go in, boys, good luck to us all."
Our guns do rattle and the pheasants do fall,
But in less than ten minutes twelve keepers we did spy,
"Get you gone, you bold poachers, how dare you come nigh."
Says one to the other, "Now, what shall we do?"
Says one to the other, "We all will stand true."
So they did agree for to all be as one
And to fight in these covers till battle was won.
Now, there's one William Taylor who won't run away
When nine of those keepers all on him did play.
Young Taylor being weary, he sat down to rest,
Young Taylor was taken though he fought the best.
Now, judges and juries to him they did say,
"If you will confess now, your sweet life we'll save."
"Oh no," says young Taylor, "That won't do at all;
But now since you've got me I'll die for them all."
Now, there's none like young Taylor nor never was yet,
There is none like young Taylor nor never was yet.
There's none like young Taylor you keepers all know
That fought in those covers some winters ago.