English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians

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	No. 40 Shooting of His Dear

	2 He throwed down his gun And to her he run. He hugged her, he kissed her Till he found she was dead. 3 Then dropping her down To his uncle he run. Good woe and good lasses, I've killed poor Polly Bam. 4 O uncle, O uncle, what shall I do ? For woe and good lasses, I've killed poor Polly Bam. Her white apron over her shoulder, But woe and good lasses, It was poor Polly Bam. 5 Stay in your own country And don't run away.
	6 The day before trial The ladies all appeared in a row. Polly Bam 'peared among them Like a fountain of snow. 7 Don't hang Jimmy Dannels, For he's not to blame. My white apron over my shoulder He took me for a swan ; But woe and good lasses, It was me, poor Polly Bam. 159