Any who, like me, first encountered Chaucer as a member of that demonic team whose express creative purpose was to blight the lives of examinees between the ages of 16 & 18 (that bastard Shakespeare was another) will enjoy the extraction of piss going on here. And those who, like me, subsequently re-discovered Chaucer as one of the all-time big hitters will enjoy the accuracy both of style and content in Bill Bailey’s glorious parody.

Three fellowes wenten into a pubbe,
And gleefullye their handes did rubbe,
In expectatione of revelrie,
For ’twas the houre known as happye.
Greate botelles of wine did they quaffe,
And hadde a reallye good laffe
Til drunkennesse held full dominione,
For ’twas two for the price of one.
Yet after wine and meade and sac,
Man must have a massive snack,
Great pasties from Cornwalle!
Scottishe eggs round like a balle!
Great hammes, quaile, ducke and geese!
They suck’d the bones and drank the grease!
(One fellowe stood all pale and wan,
For he was vegetarianne)
Yet man knoweth that gluttonie,
Stoketh the fyre of lecherie,
Upon three young wenches round and slye,
The fellowes cast a wanton eye.
One did approach, with drunkene winke
“‘Ello darlin’, you fancy a drink?”,
Soon they caught them on their knee,
‘Twas like some grotesque puppettrie!
Such was the lewdness and debaucherie –
‘Twas like a sketch by Dick Emery!
(Except that Dick Emery is not yet borne –
So such comparisonne may not be drawn).
But then the fellowes began to pale,
For quail are not the friende of ale!
And in their bellyes much confusione!
From their throats vile extrusione!
Stinking foule corruptionne!
Came spewinge forth from droolinge lippes,
The fetide stenche did fille the pubbe,
‘Twas the very arse of Beelzebubbe!
Thrown they were, from the Horne And Trumpette,
In the street, no coyne, no strumpet.
Homeward bounde, must quicklie go,
To that ende – a donkey stole!
Their handes all with vomit greased,
(The donkey was not pleased,
And threw them into a ditche of shite!)
They all agreed: “What a brilliant night!”