Pleasant Peasant Pheasant Plucking Song Marc Gunn

There was a pleasant peasant who was living a pleasant life
Grunting while she hunted for a pheasant to take to knife
She nightly sharpened up her knife for this tasty endeavor
And every eve, she fumbled home without pheasant cadaver

Fi fiddle-li-dee
Sh-dee sh-dum
Fiddle-li-de she-die

One evening while a-wondering alone in empty woods
She saw a pheasant passing in thе brush near where shе stood
She stumbled over stunted stump. The pheasant watched with laughter
As this former pleasant peasant passed out in the pasture

Unpleasantly the peasant ‘rose later with depression
Lying in a puddle o' mud with a dazed expression
The pheasant stood there staring at the most unpleasant peasant
When a thought occurred to her that the peasant brought a present

The peasant saw the pheasant approach, pleased with this decision
The peasant's knife flew for the life of pheasant with precision
The pheasant sounded like a fife and caught the knife in beak
While the panicked peasant picked a passage, ran away, and shrieked

The peasant stumbled over something that filled her cheeks with life
She fumbled over the pheasant beheaded by her knife
Now with a pleasant smile, the plucky peasant fumbled home
To pluck the pheasant with the present the unpleasant pheasant stole