Knife In The Window

Last Saturday night young Nancy laid sleeping,
And into her bedroom young Johnny went a-creeping,
With his long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to his knee.

He said, “Lovely Nancy, may I come to bed to you?”
She smiled and replied, “John, I’m afraid you’ll undo me
With your long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to your knee.”

His small clothes fell from him and into bed tumbled,
She laughed in his face when his breeches he fumbled
With his long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to his knee.

“My breeches fit tight, love, I cannot undo them.”
She smiled and replied, “John, you must take a knife to them
With your long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to your knee.”

“My knife will not cut, love, it ain’t worth a cinder.”
She smiled and replied, “John, there’s two on the window
With your long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to your knee.”

He picked up the knife, and he unlaced his breeches.
He un’ressed his breeches, and into bed he tumbled
With his long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to his knee.

All the long night how they rolled and they tumbled.
Before daylight i’ the morning Nancy’s nightgown he crumbled
With his long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to his knee.

Now nine months being past, it fell on a Sunday,
A child it was born with a knife-mark in the window
With a long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to his knee.