Poachers Night

When you carry a 12 bore There's a rule thats unspoken It was always carried With the barrel broken The hammers uncocked Nestled against the firing pin A pair of No 6 short Snugly nestled in. We didn't poach by moonlight We were a very furtive lot Being out by moonlight could Have meant a backside full of shot For the Keeper knew his job And the Keeper was mean And being out by moonlight Made a body more easily seen. So, dressed in dark clothing We poached just by stars Just enough light so You know where you are And we could take a hare A rabbit, pigeon or duck Sometimes a pheasant On nights we were in luck Broken 12 bore loaded Walking fields by night Just a reflex action Taking things in flight We would stand in the floods As the birds whistle winged down You got just a split second To fire at the sound. Always very grateful For every kill we got We weren't out for pleasure Just to fill the cooking pot. Not like sporting gentry Who shot by the sun Picking off those birds Driven towards their gun. Just there for the occasion, Showing very little skill Even having beaters There to pick up their kill. No we didn't poach by moonlight We were a furtive lot For being out by moonlight could Have meant a backside full of shot