On the 14th of May, at the end of the day With me trusty old fiddle to the pub I did stray In search of the craic with the company there And hark to the song of the bonny white hare
I heard an old man there a-singing a song On an old ukulele while folk sang along Says I to myself, that's a fine melody One day I will sing it myself, you shall see
And then the old man told a tale so weird Of an old local legend that had me afeared About a strange creature that lived in a lair On the moor, 'twas the home of the bonny white hare
With ten pints of scrumpy inside me that night I walked 'cross the moor in the pale moonlight As I passed by the tor in the darkness I stared And what should I see but the bonny white hare
This sight made me sober, and chilled to the bone I took to my heels and ran all the way home I never forgot what I saw that night there And remembered the song of the bonny white hare
(instrumental break)
Now many years later, a much wiser man To search for ideas for a song I began The legend to haunt me and fill me with care Was the song and the tale of the bonny white hare
I couldn't remember a note of the tune So I took out me fiddle and started to croon To forget the original tune was a pity But I played a few notes and soon wrote a nice ditty
The story to me now was wholly unknown I'd forgotten the words, so I made up me own They told of what happened out in the night air The night I encountered the bonny white hare
Now news of my song reached a man that I know Who was looking for songs for his radio show He said that's the song I'll put out on the air The traditional song of the bonny white hare
I tried to explain that 'twas I wrote the song And the end of the stick that he had was all wrong. But he didn't hear me, he just said "Great chords! We're putting this up for the next folk awards!"
Well what could I do, it was too late to change My story is ended but it's very strange, How I got the award for traditional track But it's there on me shelf and I can't give it back.