[00:00.000] 作曲 : Traditional
[00:08.44]The merry brown hares came a-leaping
[00:12.96]Over the crest of the hill
[00:17.08]Where the clover and corn lay a-sleeping
[00:21.73]Under the moonlight so still
[00:26.02]Leaping so late and so early
[00:30.12]'Till under their bite and their tread
[00:34.48]The swedes and the wheat and the barley
[00:38.58]Lay cankered and trampled and dead
[00:45.33]A poacher's poor widow sat sighing
[00:49.55]On the side of the moss-patterned bank
[00:53.93]Where under the gloom of the fir-woods
[00:58.26]One acre of ground laying rank
[01:02.51]She watched over barely grown clover
[01:06.66]Where rabbit or hare never ran
[01:11.29]For the ground that it all covered over
[01:15.56]Hid the blood of a good murdered man
[01:22.35]She thought of the shaded plantation
[01:26.49]And the hares and her husband's own blood
[01:30.82]And the voice of her own indignation
[01:35.08]Rose up to the throne of her God
[01:39.36]There's blood on your new foreign shrubs, Squire
[01:43.75]There's blood on your pointer's cold feet
[01:48.07]There's blood on the game that you sell Squire
[01:52.38]And there's blood on the game that you eat
[01:58.24]You have sold out the labouring man, Squire
[02:03.35]Both body and soul for to shame
[02:07.72]To pay for your seat in the House, Squire
[02:11.88]And to pay for the feed of your game
[02:16.24]You made him a poacher yourself, Squire
[02:20.49]When you'd give not the work nor the meat
[02:25.04]And your barley-fed hares robbed the garden
[02:29.25]At our starving poor little one's feet
[02:35.24]When packed into one tiny chamber
[02:40.16]Man, mother and little ones lay
[02:44.38]While the rain pattered in on our bride bed
[02:48.83]And the walls barely held out the day
[02:53.15]When we lay in the heat of the fever
[02:57.48]On the mud and the clay of the floor
[03:01.76]'Till you parted us all for three months, Squire
[03:06.14]And we knocked at the working house door
[03:12.76]So to kennels and liveried varlets
[03:16.85]Where you starved your own daughter of bread
[03:21.46]And worn out with liquor and ******s
[03:25.55]See your heirs at your feet lying dead
[03:29.98]When you follow them into your heaven
[03:34.35]And your soul rots asleep in the grave
[03:38.78]Then Squire, you will not be forgiven
[03:42.95]By the free men you took as your slaves