Miles Weatherhill was a brisk young weaver
And at Toddmerton he did dwell.
He fell in love with a handsome maiden:
The parson's servant Sarah Bell.
It was at Toddmerton when these true lovers
At the parson's house their love did tell;
And none in the world will be more constant
Than Miles Weatherhill and Sarah Bell.
But they were parted broken hearted,
Separated were those lovers far.
Those constant lovers adored each other
And love will penetrate through iron bars.
They would have married, tales were carried,
Caused displeasure as you shall hear,
Miles was refused to meet his lover,
She left Toddmerton, Lancashire.
She left her true love broken hearted
And to her mother at York did go.
And o'er the distance they were parted,
Caused sorrow, grief, and pain and woe.
All through this sadness, Miles, and madness,
He made a deep and a solemn vow:
Separated from his own true lover,
He'd be revenged on Parson Plough.
Four loaded pistols, a fit of frenzy,
Miles to the vicarage went forthwith,
And with a weapon wounded the master,
And he shot the maiden named Jane Smith.
To the lady's chamber, rage and anger,
Bent on destruction, intent to k**,
He took a poker and he beat her,
Till crimson blood on the floor did spill.
If Miles and Sarah had not been parted
Those in the grave would be living now;
And Miles would not have died on the gallows
For slaying the servant of Parson Plough.
At the early age of three and twenty
In the shade below where the worms do dwell,
Come all young people and consider
Miles Weatherhill and Sarah Bell.