by Eric Tate Prithee, young Maiden. Come sit yourself down, I'll tell thee a tale that's the talk of the town: How that young Carter Got wot he were ar'ter An' squire's grand lady, she droppit her gown! They got together one fine sunny day, Out in the stable, they lay in the hay. She were so willing, Her gived him a shilling. But when squire arrived: there's the devil to pay! He caught them Red-handed... Well; Something were Red! With what he beholden, blood rushed to his head. Milady stood blushing, George Carter went rushing Outen the window, An'away off he fled. Squire were'nt so active cos'he's got the gout. But he took off after, with a roar and a shout! Chasing through houses. Men guarding their spouses. Missed by the Butchers, george twisted about. They raced through the town, past the farriers forge. By the fishmongers, squire nearly caught george! Squire tried a strangle, George escaped that tangle, He was Off through the gully and out by the Gorge. The squire were panting, and shouting out "stop" But george kept running, so by Cobblers' shop Squire lay in waiting But tweren't the mating Driving squire on... To make George's eyes pop. Grabbed by the Cobblers; George's face showed the pain He promised to never not do that again. "That doesn't matter" Squire started to natter, Just give back that shilling and I'll ease off the strain!
The end