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For the ghost of the Swan was a hunting him down

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

He had used to come when the mon was at rest

And settle his’self just a top of his breast

And then with outstretched wings and all

Right into his face his woe did fall

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

Look at the mud on me noble crest

Look at the bloody blud on me breast

With a no.6 shot straight through me eyes

With shattered pinions how can I rise

Or paddle the limped waters through

With both legs broken all done by you

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

I’ll always haunt you in this here room

And now I am going to pronounce your doom

You shall never catch trout on the Arrow or Alne

For me ghost shall gobble up all your spawn

You shall sit all day without getting a bite

And the folk’s shall all say "Sarves him right"

You may try him with worms or the grubs of flies

But no not a blessed fish shall rise

And when on the banks of the river you roam

You shall never here nothing but this here moan

Oh the Swan the beautiful Swan

Shot by a naughty Auster mon.

The mon woke up in a dreadful fright

For he’d suffered martyrdom all that night

And said as he hurriedly put on his clothes

I’ll finish the job so now here goes

He smashed his gun stock lock and barrel

His fly fishing rod broke off at the ferule

The rest of his tackle though almost new

Into the blazing fire he threw

Then off to the river he did fly

Resolved that very hour to die

He stuck his hat on a little ridge

And drowned himself by Oversley bridge

And that was the end of the beautiful Swan

And to the naughty Auster mon.