I am from the Isle of Wight and, naturally, we don't sing this scurrilous ditty down there. It is probably a Portsmouth or Southampton song. They must be jealous because they were born the wrong side of the water.

Four Drunken Maidens

There were three drunken maidens Came from the Isle of Wight
They drunk from Friday morning clear through to Saturday night
When Saturday night it did come round these 3 they wouldn’t go out
And these three drunken maidens, They pushed the jug about.


Then in comes bouncing Sally, Her cheeks as red as blooms
“Move up me jovial sisters, And give young Sal some room
And I will be your equal Before the night is out”
And these four drunken maidens, They pushed the jug about.


There's woodcock and pheasant, and partridge and hare
And every sort of dainty, No scarcity was there
There's forty quarts of beer, me boys, They fairly drunk them out
And these four drunken maidens, Still pushed the jug about.


Then up comes the landlord, He's asking for his pay
There’s a forty pound bill, me boys These gals have got to pay
That's ten pounds apiece, me boys, But still they wouldn't go out
And these four drunken maidens, Still pushed the jug about.


Oh where are your feather hats, Your mantles rich and fine?
They all got swallowed up, me lads, In tankards of good wine
And where are your maidenheads, You maidens brisk and gay?
We left them in the alehouse, We’ve drunk them clean away.