THREE JOLLY ROGUES OF LYNNE
In the good old colony days
When we lived under the king
Lived a miller and a weaver and a little tailor
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Lived a miller and a weaver and a little tailor
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
The miller, he stole corn
The weaver, he stole yarn
And the little tailor, he stole broadcloth
For to keep those three rogues warm
(chorus works as above)
The miller was drowned in his dam
The weaver was hung in his yarn
And the Devil laid his claw on the little tailor
With the broadcloth under his arm
The miller still floats in his dam
The weaver still hangs in his yarn
And the little tailor goes skipping through Hell
With the broadcloth under his arm
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THREE JOLLY ROGUES OF LYNNE
In the good old colony days
When we lived under the king
Lived a miller and a weaver and a little tailor
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Lived a miller and a weaver and a little tailor
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
The miller, he stole corn
The weaver, he stole yarn
And the little tailor, he stole broadcloth
For to keep those three rogues warm
(chorus works as above)
The miller was drowned in his dam
The weaver was hung in his yarn
And the Devil laid his claw on the little tailor
With the broadcloth under his arm
The miller still floats in his dam
The weaver still hangs in his yarn
And the little tailor goes skipping through Hell
With the broadcloth under his arm
In the good old colony days
When we lived under the king
Lived a miller and a weaver and a little tailor
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
Lived a miller and a weaver and a little tailor
Three jolly rogues of Lynne
The miller, he stole corn
The weaver, he stole yarn
And the little tailor, he stole broadcloth
For to keep those three rogues warm
(chorus works as above)
The miller was drowned in his dam
The weaver was hung in his yarn
And the Devil laid his claw on the little tailor
With the broadcloth under his arm
The miller still floats in his dam
The weaver still hangs in his yarn
And the little tailor goes skipping through Hell
With the broadcloth under his arm