Classic Poem

There was an old woman lived under the hill
And it's green, oh green the leaves do grow
And she had good beer and ale for to sell
And it's ha young man, why do you tell me so?

The woman's daughter and her name it was Nelly
And she took sick with a fever in her belly.

It was a bold trooper rode up to the inn,
He's perishing cold and wet to the skin.

He drank up his beer and called for another.
He kissed pretty Nelly, likewise her old mother.

The night coming on, the day being spent,
They both went to bed with the mother's consent.

The old woman put them in bed together
To see if the one couldn't cure the other.

‘Oh what's this here so stiff and warm?’
‘It's my fine nag and his name is Bald.’

‘Oh what's this here hanging under his chin?’
‘It's only his head, he'll do you no harm.

‘But what's this here?’ ‘It's only my well
Where your fine nag can drink his fill.’

‘But what if my nag should chance to fall in?’
‘He must catch on the grass that grows round the brim.’

‘But what if the grass should prove to be rotten?’
‘He must bob up and down until he hits bottom.

‘How can you tell when your nag's had his fill?’
‘He'll hang down his head, turn away from the well.’

‘How can you tell when your nag wants some more?’
‘He'll raise up his head and come knock at the door.’