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Three Drunken Maidens

Tim Hart/Maddy Prior
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There were three drunken maidens Came from the Isle of Wight They drunk the Monday morning Nor stopped till Saturday night When Saturday night did come, my boys They wouldn't then go out These three drunken maidens They pushed the jug about Then up comes bouncing Sally Her cheeks as red as a bloom "Move up, my jolly sisters And give young Sally some room For I'll be your equal Before the two we go out" 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 This forty quarts appeared, my boys They fairly drunk them out 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, my boys These girls was forced to pay That's ten pounds apiece, my boys But still they wouldn't go out These four drunken maidens They pushed the jug about Oh, 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