Miles Weatherhill was a brisk young weaver And at Todmorden he did dwell. He fell in love with a handsome maiden: The parson’s servant Sarah Bell. It was at Todmorden when these true lovers At the parson’s house their love did tell; And none in the world will be more constant Than Miles Weatherhill and Sarah Bell. But they were parted broken hearted, Separated were those lovers far. Those constant lovers adored each other And love will penetrate through iron bars. They would have married, tales were carried, Caused displeasure as you shall hear, Miles was refused to meet his lover, She left Todmorden, Lancashire. She left her true love broken hearted And to her mother at York did go. And o’er the distance they were parted, Caused sorrow, grief, and pain and woe. All through this sadness, Miles, and madness, He made a deep and a solemn vow: Separated from his own true lover, He’d be revenged on Parson Plough. Four loaded pistols, a fit of frenzy, Miles to the vicarage went forthwith, And with a weapon wounded the master, And he shot the maiden named Jane Smith. To the lady’s chamber, rage and anger, Bent on destruction, intent to kill, He took a poker and he beat her, Till crimson blood on the floor did spill. If Miles and Sarah had not been parted Those in the grave would be living now; And Miles would not have died on the gallows For slaying the servant of Parson Plough. At the early age of three and twenty In the shade below where the worms do dwell, Come all young people and consider Miles Weatherhill and Sarah Bell.
The other version of this uploaded on youtube is sped up; thank you!
Miles Weatherhill was a brisk young weaver And at Todmorden he did dwell. He fell in love with a handsome maiden: The parson’s servant Sarah Bell. It was at Todmorden when these true lovers At the parson’s house their love did tell; And none in the world will be more constant Than Miles Weatherhill and Sarah Bell. But they were parted broken hearted, Separated were those lovers far. Those constant lovers adored each other And love will penetrate through iron bars. They would have married, tales were carried, Caused displeasure as you shall hear, Miles was refused to meet his lover, She left Todmorden, Lancashire. She left her true love broken hearted And to her mother at York did go. And o’er the distance they were parted, Caused sorrow, grief, and pain and woe. All through this sadness, Miles, and madness, He made a deep and a solemn vow: Separated from his own true lover, He’d be revenged on Parson Plough. Four loaded pistols, a fit of frenzy, Miles to the vicarage went forthwith, And with a weapon wounded the master, And he shot the maiden named Jane Smith. To the lady’s chamber, rage and anger, Bent on destruction, intent to kill, He took a poker and he beat her, Till crimson blood on the floor did spill. If Miles and Sarah had not been parted Those in the grave would be living now; And Miles would not have died on the gallows For slaying the servant of Parson Plough. At the early age of three and twenty In the shade below where the worms do dwell, Come all young people and consider Miles Weatherhill and Sarah Bell.
Boot filling!!
MAN I LOVE THIS SONG -chang ////chang///((()))