When My Father Went A-Hunting! ©
Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1982
When my father went a-hunting
With some arrows in his hand,
He took his three retrievers
And they formed a mighty band.
"So come now Giffe,
And come now Gaffe,
And come now Grindall, too;
We'll show those so-called hunting men
At home a thing or two."
He'd climb into the mountains
From whence he would return
With either stag and roe-buck
Or some fishes from the burn.
When my father went a-courting
For to gain some lady's hand,
He took his three musicians
And they formed a mighty band.
"So come now Jim,
And come now John,
And come now Joseph, too;
We'll show those so-called gentlemen
At home a thing or two."
He'd climb into her bower
And pass the night away
In joyous entertainment
As the three musicians play.
When my father went a-fighting
With his oaken-shield in hand,
He took his three grey horses
And they formed a mighty band.
"So come now Swift,
And come now Sure,
And come now Springer, too;
We'll show those so-called fighting men
At home a thing or two."
He'd climb into the saddle
And spend an honest day
In quiet contemplation
Of just where his duty lay.
When my father went a-mourning
With a cap held in his hand,
He took his three young children
And we formed a mighty band.
"So come now Milt,
And come now Malt,
And come now Myron, too;
We'll show those so-called preaching men
At home a thing or two."
He'd climb into the pulpit
With eloquent display,
Extolling all the virtues
Of the soul now passed away.
When my father went a-drinking
With a flagon in his hand,
He took his three stout neighbours,
And they formed a mighty band.
"So come now Tim,
And come now Tom,
And come now Tiger, too;
We'll show those so-called drinking men
At home a thing or two."
He'd climb into the tavern
And there he would beguile
The comely serving wenches
With his most bewitching smile.
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