Polly Vaughan

Come all you young fellows that handle a gun,
Beware how you shoot when the night’s coming on.
For young Jimmy met his true love, he mistook her for a swan,
And he shot her and killed her by the setting of the sun.
As Polly was walking all in a shower of rain,
She sheltered in the green bush her beauty to save.
With her apron throwed over her, he mistook her for a swan,
And he shot her and killed her by the setting of the sun.
Then home ran young Jimmy with his dog and his gun,
Crying, «Uncle, dear uncle, have you heard what I done?
I met my own true love, I mistook her for a swan,
And I shot her and killed her by the setting of the sun.»
Then out rushed his uncle with his locks hanging grey,
Crying, «Jimmy, oh dear Jimmy, don’t you run away.
Don’t leave your own country till the trial do come on,
For they never will hang you for the shooting of a swan.»
Oh, the girls of this country they’re all glad, we know,
To see Polly Vaughan brought down so low.
You could take them poor girls and set them in a row,
And her beauty would outshine 'em like a fountain of snow.
Well, the trial were on and Polly’s ghost did appear,
Crying, «Uncle, dear uncle, let Jimmy go clear,
For my apron was thrown round me, he mistook me for a swan,
And he never would have shot his own Polly Vaughan.»