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Widdecombe Fair

Tom Pearce, Tom Pearce,
Lend me your grey mare,
All along, down along, out along lea,
For I want for to go to Widdecombe Fair,

With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davey, Dan’ll Widdon, Harry Hawke, Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all, Old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.

And when shall I see again my old grey mare?
All along...
By Friday soon, or Saturday noon,
With Bill Brewer...

So they harnessed and bridled the old grey mare,
All along...
And off they rode to Widdecombe Fair,
With Bill Brewer...

Then Friday came and Saturday noon,
All along...
But Tom Pearce’s old mare had not trotted home,
With Bill Brewer...

So Tom Pearce he went to the top of the hill,
All along...
And he saw his old mare down a-making her will,
With Bill Brewer...

Well Tom Pearce’s old mare she took sick and died,
All along...
And Tom he sat down on a stone and he cried,
With Bill Brewer...

But this isn’t the end of this shocking affair,
All along...
Nor, though they be dead, of the horrid career
Of Bill Brewer...

When the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night,
All along...
Tom Pearce’s old mare does appear ghastly white
With Bill Brewer...

And all the night long be heard skirling and groans,
All along...
From Tom Pearce’s old mare and her rattling grey bones,
With Bill Brewer...