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