'Twas in the prime of summer time,
When pleasant was the weather,
At Stakehill Fold, as I've been told,
The women met together;
Old Betty Jacques the chair bespeaks,
And then came Sally Turner,
And Collinge wife, wi' fun was rife,
And Mall sat up i'th' corner.

The wife o' Dill would have her will,
And plumpt her deawn i'th middle;
Whilst Bet-at-Joes, nipt up her toes,
And fot owd John with fiddle.
When John began, up stepped Nan,
And doanc'd a heavy raddler,
And, without care, upset a chair,
And down hoo knock'ed owd Paddler.

Then came Mall Wilde an' brought her child
And put it into th' keythur;
Whilst John-at-Dick's good wife has six,
But left 'em with their feyther.
Of Mary Jos, there was no loss,
Nor yet o' youthful Nelly;
An' Sall wur fain to come deawn th' lane,
An' dance wi' neighbour Dolly.

An' they had ale 'at towd a tale;
'Twur cool, an' wick, an' foamin';
It did 'em good, it warm'd their blood,
An' set their thoughts a roamin'.
An' there were eyes 'at look'd as bright
As ony star i'th' welkin,
An' bosoms like the marble white,
An' bosoms soft wi' milk in.

Till echo rang, so sweet they sang,
Within that joyous dwellin',
The chamber floor and butt'ry door
The music soft repellin'.
Whilst up the stairs flew angel airs,
Against the rafters ringin';
The looms below danced tip a toe,
The lathes began a swingin'.