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Old farmer Jones

He’s got the fits

He’s fallen ill

Something’s amiss

He blames that woman

Out in the sticks

He says she’s evil

Says she’s bewitched

It’s hard to know

They often lie

They speak in tongues

They will deny

But we have ways

We have a test

Some will be stubborn

Others confess

Right off the cliff

Into the sound

Sometimes they live

Sometimes they drown

But if they float

We’ll know for sure

The mark of the son of the morning is certain and we have a rope for the cure

Old farmer jones

He’s better now

His crops are plenty

Feeding the town

He blamed that woman

That wicked witch

She’s got a new home

Down in a ditch

Young Abigail

Don’t listen well

Her mama knows

Must be a spell

She blames that woman

Outskirts of town

we have a test

See if she drowns