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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.