I learned me a new song I Did. Heard it at the Dickens Fair from the Randy ladies of the Paddy West school of seamanship "We produce the best Seamen in London".

The Widow and the Devil
Empty Hats

High atop a lonely moor, a Widow lived alone.
Well, in she kept, and as she slept,
her pillow heard her moan:
"Oh, many's the lonely traveller
has spent the night with me,
but there's no a man in all creation
gives content to me!

"Well, some can manage once or twice,
and some make three or four;
but it seems to me a rarity
is the man who can do more.
I'd do anything to find him,
in Heaven or in Hell."
And as she spoke these words,
sure, she heard her front door bell.

And the wind blew cold and lonely
across that Widow's moor,
and she never, ever turned away
a traveller from the door.

So boldly ran the Widow,
and the door did open wide,
and as she did, a tall and handsome
stranger stepped inside.
Well, she gave him bread and brandy,
and when that he was fed,
he said, "My dear, now have no fear;
it's time to come to bed.

"For I've heard your plea
right down the lane,
and I've come to see you right.
But you must come to Hell with me
if I can last the night."
Well, she said, "You randy Devil!
To this bargain I'll agree,
for Hell on Earth, or Hell in Hell,
it's all the same to me!"

And the wind blew cold and lonely
across that Widow's moor,
and she never, ever turned away
a traveller from the door.

Now, as they tumbled into bed,
the Devil, he proved well...
and he thought before the night would end
that she'd be in his Hell.
Ah, but when they came to number nine,
the Widow cried out, "More!"
And when the twelfth time came around,
the Widow cried, "Encore!"

At twenty-five the Devil
felt compelled to take a rest,
but the Widow cried,
"Come raise your head,
and put me to the test!"
At sixty-nine, the Widow laughed.
"Again! Again!" she cried,
and the Devil said,
"Well, I can see just how your husband died!"

And the wind blew cold and lonely
across that Widow's moor,
and she never, ever turned away
a traveller from the door.

At ninety-nine, the Devil
he began to wail and weep.
He said, "I'll give you anything,
if you'll let me go to sleep!"
But before the morning light was up,
the Devil hobbled home,
and the Widow, still not satisfied,
once more was left alone.

She lay there on her pillow
and she thought on ninety-nine.
"It's a pity that poor old Devil
couldn't manage one more time!
I'll call him up again tonight
to see what can be done -
with a little more application,
he could've made the Ton !"

And the wind blew cold and lonely
across that Widow's moor,
and she never, ever turned away
a traveller from the door.

But when she called to him that night,
no Devil did appear.
For the first time in Eternity,
the Devil, he shook with fear.
He said, "Of all the torments
I've witnessed here in Hell,
I never knew what pain was,
'til I rang your front door bell!"

And the wind blew cold and lonely
across that Widow's moor,
and she never, ever turned away
a traveller from the door.

And the wind blew cold and lonely
across that Widow's moor,
and she never, ever turned away
a traveller from the door.




``Really, Mr Collins,'' cried Elisabeth with some warmth, ``you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as may convince you of its being one.'' - Pride and Prejudice
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