Do you ken that flighty mare Bridget 

She only ran off with a three foot midget 

 She reckons she fell for his eyes Peeping out of his disguise

When he cavorted around dressed as a thimble

She presented him first prize as their passion aroused

Causing the vicar to flip. his halo to slip 

When there before his eyes lay the proof she denied 

 That she Bridget his wife wearing nothing but the smile of her life

 Lay being rogered rigid by a tinfoil wearing midget 

how the surprise brought tears to the poor vicar eyes 

As he contemplated on fate that had dogged him of late 

Since he been so unwise as to award first prize to such a stupid disguise

Micky the three foot winner of this years church fete 

Best fancy dressed  midget dressed as a protected digit