'Tis just a month come Friday next, Bill Champerdown and me
Well us traipsed across old Darty Moor, the Goosey Fair to see.
And us made ourselves quite fiddy, us greased and oiled our hair.
Then off us goes in our Sunday clothes behind old Bill's grey mare.
Us smelled the sage and onion half a mile from Whitchurch Down,
And didn't us have a blow-out when us come into the town.
And there us met Ned Hannerford, Jan Steer and Micky Square,
And it seemed to we, all Devon must be at Tavistock Goosey Fair.
And it's Oh, and where be a-gwain?
And what be you a doin'-of there?
Heave down your prong and stamp along
To Tavistock Goosey Fair
Us went to see the horses and the heifers and the ewes,
Us went on all them roundabouts and into all the shows.
And then it started raining, and a-blowin' to our face,
So off us goes up to the Rose to have a dish of tea.
And there us had a sing-song and the folks kept droppin' in
And what with them what knowed us, well us had a drop of gin
And what with one and t'other, us didn't seem to care
Whether us was to Bellever Tor, or Tavistock Goosey Fair.
And it's Oh, and where be a-gwain?
And what be you a doin'-of there?
Heave down your prong and stamp along
To Tavistock Goosey Fair
'T were rainin' streams and dark as pitch when us trotted home that night
And when us got past Merrivale Bridge the mare, her took a fright.
Well says I to Bill, "Be careful, you'll have us in them drains."
Says Bill to me, "Cor bugger!", says he, "Why haven't you got the reins?"
Just then the mare ran slap against a whackin' great big stone;
Her kicked the trap to flibbets and her trotted off alone.
And when us come to reckonin' t'weren't no good standin' there:
So us had to traipse home thirteen mile from Tavistock Goosey Fair.
And it's Oh, and where be a-gwain?
And what be you a doin'-of there?
Heave down your prong and stamp along
To Tavistock Goosey Fair