O come all you young fellows that carry a gun,
I'd have you get home by the light of the sun,
For young Jimmy was a fowler and a-fowling alone,
When he shot his own true love in the room of a swan.

Then home went young Jimmy with his dog and his gun,
Saying, "Uncle, dear uncle, have you heard what I've done?
Cursèd be that old gunsmith that made my old gun,
For I've shot my own true love in the room of a swan."

Then out came bold Uncle with his locks hanging grey,
Saying, "Jimmy, dear Jimmy, don't you go away.
Don't you leave your own country till the trial come on,
For you never will be hangèd for the shooting a swan".

So the trial came on and pretty Polly did appear,
Saying, "Uncle, dear uncle, let Jimmy go clear,
For my apron was bound round me and he took me for a swan.
And his poor heart lay bleeding for Polly his own."