Over the hill and over the dale
And over the bourn to Dawlish --
Where Gingerbread Wives have a scanty sale
And gingerbread huts are smallish

Rantipole Betty she ran down a hill
And kicked up her petticoats fairly
Says I I'll be Jack if you will be Gill
So she sat on the grass debonnairly

Here's somebody coming, here's somebody coming!
Says I 'tis the wind at parley
So without any fuss and hawing and humming
She lay on the grass debonnairly

Here's somebody here and here's somebody there!
Says I hold your tongue you young Gipsey;
So she held her tongue and lay plump and fair
And dead as a venus tipsy

O who wouldn't go to Dawlish fair
O who wouldn't stop in a Meadow
O who wouldn't rumple the daisies there
And make the wild ferns for a bed do!