Come listen to me, you yeoman,
all who live in Dale or Dale
My song is of a butcher, tall,
who lived in Tideswell Dale
Beside the church this butcher lived
and when off to bed he slumped
He often slept for ten good hours
because he got so drunk
One only sorrow quelled his heart
as well it might well mine
The fear of whites and grisly ghosts
which dance in the pale moonshine
The wonder lost in the cold churchyard
among the dismal tombs
Where hemlock blossoms in the day
and in darkness light shade blooms
It danced upon the summer's day
when the heather bells were blowing
Old Robin crossed the tides well more
and heard the heath grow crowing
Well mounted on his forest leg
he freely rode and fast
Nor drew a rein till Sparrow Pit
and Paislow Moss were past
Then slowly down the hill
he came to chapel on the frith
Where at the rose of Lancaster
he met his friend the smith
The parson and the pardner
too all took their morning draught
And when they spied a brotherhood
near
they all came out and laughed
Come draw your rain, you butcher bull,
how far have you to ride?
To Si mon the Tanner at Whaley Bridge
to sell those good cowhide
You shall not go one footy on
till you stop and sup with me
And when I've drank my liquor up,
I'll have a drink with you
Oh no, oh no, you drowthy smith,
I can no longer stay
The wife she gave me a charge to keep,
And I dare not tell her name.
Quite the pardon then, what likes,
what likes,
Why tell you this to me?
You may be drunk this blessed night,
And shrived for both you'll be.
So down got the butcher from his horse,
Aye, what for willing was he?
And he drank till the summer sun was set
In that jolly company.
He drank till the summer sun went down
and the stars began to shine
And his greasy nottle was dazed at that
with the nut, brown ale and wine
Then up arose these four madmen
and joining hand in hand
They danced around the hostel
floor
and sung though they scarce could stand
Then bold Robin mounted on his horse,
and a -drunk when white was he
And off he rode by the forest,
where the deer prowled silently
Then up the slack and tight were
more broad
like when the shadow threw
As the silver moon from behind the clouds
burst out to open view
And there this man whose heartbeat
quick gave out a dreadful howl
For fast by his side, he there,
a spider, monstrous, phantom ploughed
Up rose the fell of its head,
up rose the hood which
its head did shroud
And all its teeth did chatter and grin,
as it cried both long and loud
The butcher struck his horse with a stir,
as he never had struck before
And away he rode,
with white hat and mane,
across the barren moor
But ever as fast as the butcher rode,
the ghost did primly glide
Now down on the earth
beside his horse,
then fast at his reins sighed
O 'er stalk and rock and stone and pit,
o 'er hill and dale and dell
Till the butcher gained his doorstone
there in Tideswell's good old town
Oh, off the ales, my drunken butcher
Said his wife as he sank down
Oh, off the ales, you drunken butcher
Cried half of Tidewell town
I have seen a ghost, it raced my horse
For three good miles and more
And it vanished within the churchyard wall
As I sunk down at this door
Mishroo your heart,
you're a drunken beast,
cried his wife as she held him there
Mishroo your heart, you're a drunken beast,
and a coward with the heart of a hare
No ghost has raced you home tonight,
no match is written with thy
That ghost is your shadow,
you drunken wretch,
and I wish that ghost was mine
You
Bella Hardy 
