The sun shone on the village green, it shone on poor blind Nell.
Was she picking buttercups was she F'ing hell.
She was waiting for her lover, a filthy mucky bugger,
Who wasn't fit to shovel shit from one cart to another.
He laid her down upon the village green which wasn't very lawful,
and when he took his trousers off the stink was F'ing awful.
Up got little Nell and ran like bloody hell, The bastard he pursued her,
The white of an egg ran down her leg which showed that he had screwed her.