There were three drunken maidens, lived on the Isle of Wight
  They drank from Monday morning, didn't stop till Saturday night
  When Saturday night came round, my boys, the girlies wouldn't go out
  These three drunken maidens kept pushing the jug about
  Then in comes bouncing Sally with a face as red as a bloom
  "Move up, my jolly sisters, and give your Sally some room
  For I'll be your equal before the night is out"
  So now four drunken maidens they pushed the jug about
  There was woodcock and pheasant, partridge and hare
  And every kind of pie, my boys, no scarcity was there
  They'd forty quarts of beer all told, they fairly drunk it up
  These four drunken maidens who pushed the jug about
  Then in comes the landlord and he's looking for his pay
  "I've a bill for forty nicker that you lot have got to pay"
  They hadn't got the money and still they wouldn't go out
  These four drunken maidens kept pushing the jug about
  Now where are your feathered hats, your mantles crisp and fine?
  "They've all been swallowed up, my boys, in tankards of good wine"
  And where are your maidenheads, you maids so brisk and gay?
  "We left them in the public house, we drank them clean away"