We will go to the wood, says Robin to Bobbin, We will go to the wood, says Richard to Robin, We will go to the wood, says John all alone, We will go to the wood, says everyone. What to do there? says Robin to Bobbin, What to do there? says Richard to Robin, What to do there? says John all alone, What to do there? says everyone. We'll shoot at a wren, says Robin to Bobbin, We'll shoot at a wren, says Richard to Robin, We'll shoot at a wren, says John all alone, We'll shoot at a wren, says everyone. She's down, she's down, says Robin to Bobbin, She's down, she's down, says Richard to Robin, She's down, she's down, says John all alone, She's down, she's down, says everyone. |
Then pounce, then pounce...
She is dead, she is dead... How get her home?... In a cart with six horses... Then hoist, boys, hoist...... How shall we dress her?... We'll hire seven cooks... How shall we boil her?...
In the brewer's big pan, says Robin to Bobbin, |
An ancient folk-chant, indigenous to England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. The hunting of the wren on Christmas Day has been mentioned by many folklore writers. Aubrey (1696) tells of 'a whole Parish running like madmen from Hedg to Hedg a Wren-hunting.' The rhyme was chanted in the ceremonial procession after the kill had been made. The wren was regarded as the king of birds in many countries, and also by the Druids. |
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