Miles Weatherhill was a brisk young weaver
And at Toddmerton he did dwell
He fell in love with a pretty maiden
The parson's servant Sarah Bell
It was at Toddmerton when these true lovers
At the parson's house is love did tell
And none in the world could have been more constant
Than Miles the weaver and Sarah Bell
Miles Weatherhill was but three and twenty
Hid mind was noble he was good
And Sarah Bell was fair and virtuous
Young beautiful and aged seventeen
They would have married tales were carried
Which caused displeasure as you shall hear
Miles was refused to meet his lover
She left Toddmerton in Lancashire
She left her true love broken hearted
And to her mother at York did go
And such a distance from each parted
That it caused them sorrow grief and woe
Then in a fit of madness from his sadness
And he made a deep and a solemn vow
If parted from his own true lover
Then he would be revenged on Parson Plough
Four loaded pistols a fit of frenzy
He did to the vicarage haste forthwith
And with a weapon wounded the master
And he shot the servant named Jane Smith
To find the parson's wife in a rage and anger
Bent on destruction intent to k**
He did uptreat with a poker beat her
And the crimson blood on the floor did spill
Oh God in his mercy guides both pa**ions
He sees all things from heaven above
Three innocent lives had been sacrificed
While injured all of the true love
If had not parted brocken-hearted
Those in the grave would be alive now
And Miles would not have died on the gallows
For slaying the women and Parson Plough
Miles Weatherhill was a brisk young weaver
And at Toddmerton he did dwell
He fell in love with a pretty maiden
The parson's servant Sarah Bell