This is the Somerset version as I recall from camp fires when I was a lad. We weren't aware of the other verses above.

There's a pretty little village far away,
Where they grows new potatoes, corn and hay,
They've got a little mill,
And it stands beside the rill,
And the wheel it keeps a turning all the day.
There's a lot of little houses in a clump,
And a pub they calls The Magpie and the Stump,
But the thing that takes the cake,
And it keeps us all awake,
Is the squeaking of the handle of the pump.
The village pump, the village pump, the village P.U.M.P. pump

Now our old Squire, he likes a bit of fun,
And when his eldest son were twenty-one,
He give us all a treat,
There was nuts and things to eat,
And the children got a penny and a bun.
There were races for the young and old to run,
There were races where you hop and skip and jump,
But to celebrate the day in the proper sort of way,
He fitted a new handle on the pump.
The village pump, the village pump, the village P.U.M.P. pump