All together now:-
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The Pheasant Plucker Song
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Me husband is a keeper, he's a very busy man,
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I try to understand him and I help him all I can,
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But sometimes of an evening I feel a trifle dim,
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All alone and plucking pheasants when I'd rather pluck with him.
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I'm not the pheasant plucker,
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I'm the pheasant plucker's mate
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And I'm only plucking pheasants
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Cause the pheasant plucker's late.
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I'm not good at plucking pheasants, pheasant plucking I get stuck,
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Though some peasants find it pleasant I'd much rather pluck a duck,
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Oh, but plucking geese is gorgeous, I can pluck a goose with ease
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But plucking pheasants is sheer torture, for they haven't any grease.
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I'm not the pheasant plucker,
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He has gone out on the tiles,
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He only plucked one pheasant
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And I'm sitting here with piles.
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You have to pluck them fresh, if they're fresh it's not unpleasant,
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I knew a man in Dunstable, could pluck a frozen pheasant.
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They say the village constable has pheasant plucking sessions
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With the vicar of a Sunday 'tween the first and second lessons.
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I'm not the pheasant plucker,
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I'm the pheasant plucker's son,
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And I'm only plucking pheasants
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Till the pheasant pluckers come.
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My good friend Godfrey's most adept, he's really got the knack,
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He likes to have a pheasant plucked before he hits the sack.
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I try and lend a helping hand, I gather up the feathers,
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It's really all this pheasant plucking keeps us here together.
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I'm not the pheasant plucker,
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I'm the pheasant plucker's friend,
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And I'm only plucking pheasants
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As a means unto an end.
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Me husband's in the woods all day, a-banging with his gun,
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If he could hear me heartfelt cries, then surely he would run,
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For I've fluff in all me crannies and there's feathers up me nose,
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And I'm itchin' in the kitchen' from me head down to me toes.
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I'm not the pheasant plucker,
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I'm the pheasant plucker's wife,
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And when we pluck together
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It's a pheasant plucking life!
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