Ballad Of The Bounty Hunter
Why come ye hither, fugitives,
Your minds what madness fills?
In our valleys there is danger,
And there's danger in our hills.
Oh hear ye not the singing
Of our voices wild and free?
Full soon you'll hear the ringing
Of the rifle from the tree.
For the rifle, for the rifle.
In our hands will prove no trifle.
Ye may speak a goodly word
And you may serve a different master
You may abscond but for a bond
We’ll bring you back much faster
When you meet the business end of our rifles on the spot
For some cash your hopes will dash, we always hit our shot!
For the rifle, for the rifle.
In our hands will prove no trifle.
Have ye no graves at home
Across the briny water,
That hither ye must come
Like bullocks to the slaughter?
You may try to run and hide
But your screams will just grow louder
As on your trail we ride
To greet you with black powder
For the rifle, for the rifle.
In our hands will prove no trifle.
#FightTheBlight
