Tim Hart & Maddy Prior Follow

There were three drunken maidens came from the Isle of Wight.
They drunk from Monday morning, nor stopped 'til Saturday night.
When Saturday night did come, me boys, they wouldn't then go out,
And these three drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about

Then up comes bouncing Sally, her cheeks as red as a bloom.
"Move up, me jolly sisters, and give young Sally some room.
For I'll be your equal before that we go out.
And these four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about

There's woodcock and pheasant, there's partridge and hare.
There's all sorts of dainties, no scarcity was there.
There's forty quarts of beer me boys, they barely drunk them out.
And these four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about

But up comes the landlord, he's asking for his pay.
"It's a forty pound bill, me boys, these girls are supposed to pay."
That's ten pounds apiece me boys, but still they wouldn't go out.
And these four drunken maidens, they pushed the jug about

So where are your feathered hats, your mantles rich and fine?
They've all been swallowed up in tankards of good wine.
And where are your maidenheads, you maidens brisk and gay?
"We left them in the alehouse, we drank them clean away."