In the town of Down there was a longstanding tradition
The catching of a goose was a young man’s mission

With goose in hand
And holdings in land

A young man became a man
And marriage could be his plan

They gathered in Down on the first day of fall
Fat boys, skinny boys, greedy boys, all

When the starting gun fired
They chased what they desired

But in the goose-flock down by the gap
The wily birds avoided their traps

Except for one bright young lad
Who got what geese were to be had

Returning to town
All laden with down

The others asked how he had done it
“My bicycle, lads, was all of my kit

I haven’t oiled it in weeks
And surely you know

If you’ve gone with the flow
That the squeaky wheel gets the geese”

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