Pheasant Plucker's Son Songtext
von The Irish Rovers

I′m not a pheasant plucker
I'm a pheasant plucker′s son.
And I'm sittin' pluckin′ pheasants
Til the pheasant plucker comes.


My daddy was a pheasant plucker finest in the land
When it came to plucking pheasants he was always in demand
I went out a′shootin' pheasants
Which he sat and plucked all day.
I don′t wanna end up like him
Plucking pheasants til I'm dead.
Gotta find another way
To earn me bread.
Birds are flying overhead most of the day
Gotta find a target just to make me way
Tried to be an entertainer, be a joker or a clown.
But the folks who came to see me
They just had to put me down.
Tried to be an undertaker
But I don′t like wearin' black.
There must be another way
To earn me whack.
Birds are flyin′ overhead most of the day.
Gotta find a target just to make me way.
Again