Lyrics

Oh listen, me lads, and I'll tell you the tale Of a parson who loved a maiden well He came to her while she was in bed With a fancy to have her maidenhead Says she, "I grant you your desire If it weren't for the fear of Hell's old fire." Says he, "Of Hell's old fire please have no doubt; If you were in I could whistle you out." Then says the maid, "You'll have your request." And the parson hе grinned like a fox in his nest "But bеfore that we may do this thing Some money unto me you must bring!" He brought the money, and did it down tell; She had a sheet spread over the well She thanked the parson and took his money Says he, "Now let's go do it sweet honey." But the fair maid cried that her father was come; "Oho," says the parson, "where shall I run?" "Oh you must go behind that screen And then by my dad you won't be seen." Behind the screen the parson crept And into the well of a sudden he leapt He gave a great screech and a pitiful moan "Oh help, oh help, else I'll be drowned!" "You said you'd whistle me out of hell Now whistle your own self out of the well And as for your money there's nothing to tell For you must pay for fouling the well." Now all who heard commend the maid For the nimble trick that she had played The parson he ran down the street Shaking his ears like a newly-washed sheep