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Title
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Lay of the hunted pig
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Singer
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Barnes, William Charles
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Song Lyrics
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Verse 1
Favers, muvvers, muvvers sons,
You as luve yer little uns,
Happy pegs amongst the stubble,
Listen to a tale a' trubble,
Listen pegs in yeard and stye,
How them Barkshire chaps gard I.
Verse 2
I wur barn at Kingston Lisle,
Wur I vrolliked for a while,
As vine a peg as ere ever zeen,
One of a litter of thirteen,
Till zum chaps wi' cussed spite,
Aimed a' I to make a zite,
And ha' a bit o' fun,
Tuk I up to Uffington.
Verse 3
Up vorrights the castle mound,
Ther they zet I on the ground,
And a thousand chaps or nigh,
Runned and hollered hater I,
Then, thur till I wur blowed.
Verse 4
Runned and hollered all I knowed
When so zure as pegs be pags,
Eight chaps ketched I by the legs,
Two to each tis truth I tell'ee
Three more clasped I round the belly,
Under all them vellas lying,
Pegs I thought I wur a dyin'.
Verse 5
But the Squire I thenks I zees 'un,
Varmer Whitworth riding wi' 'un,
Vat I out a all thuck Kaddle
Stretched a' thirt the varmer's zaddle,
Bless 'em pegs in yeard and sty,
Them two vriends as stuck to I.
Verse 6
Men and bwoys of British soil,
All as ever yers this tale,
If to sport you be inclined,
Plaze to bur this yer in mind,
Pegs beant made no race to win,
Be shart o' wind and tight of skin,
Do'ant yer hunt 'em but instead,
At back sword break each other's yeds,
Cheeses down the manger hole,
And try to climb the greasy pole.
Pegs in stubble yeard and sty,
May ye be never zard like I,
Nor druv wi' greasy yers and tale,
By men and bwoys droo White Horse Vale.
