The Seven Siren Sisters of old Cirencester Are more infamous now than the lechers of Leicester While walking with linked arms in Lincoln one day They saw six sailors sinking pints on the public highway Their giggles could be heard way down in Biggleswade town Where the cattle drovers were supping in ye olde Rose & Crown
When one time they rummaged in the markets of Kent Even they were shocked at the brass they had spent Fourteen shillings had gone and a handful of pence Nowt left in their purses to furnish the rent So they came to the notion of trading themselves For to pay the landlord and put food on their shelves
Soon all their gay laughter and raucous loud shouts Had some of the curtains in their lodgings twitching about And when out were seen tottering many men who were known To be married to others that lived close by that home There was such a commotion as the wives came scurrying forth One carried a bucket filled with muck from a horse
A pitched fight then started with brooms and the odd frying pan Soon the wives were left standing over each cowering man While the Seven Siren Sisters of Old Cirencester Sneaked out the back door and ran off to Rochester Never again did they return there to work picking hops But it wasn't the last time they spent too much in the shops
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