Pay attention you poachers wherever you be,
Can you answer my question and tell unto me
Who owns the wild hare that runs over the lea?
With a fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
Now a hare it may feed on a field for a day
And tomorrow quite likely be four fields away;
Yet the landowner tells you, 'She's my property',
And sings fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
And a pheasant may feed on a stubble nearby;
He'll fill up his crop and away he will fly,
Then he'll roost for the night in another man's tree,
With a fal-the-ral, deedle dal, fal-the-ral dee.
Now I say