There's an inn
Inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn,
Beneath an old grey hill ;
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
One night to drink his fill.
The ostler has a tipsy cat
That plays a five-stringed fiddle ;
And up and down he saws his bow
Now squeaking high,
Now purring low.
Now sawing in the middle
So the cat on the fiddle played a hey-diddle-diddle
A jig that would wake the dead ;
He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon :
"It's after three !", he said.