Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
And a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Now every fiddler had a fine fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.

Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
And a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his tailors three.
Now every tailor had a fine needle,
And a very fine needle had he,
Stick it in and out, in and out, said the tailors,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.

Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
ŠAnd a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his jugglers three.
Now every juggler had a fine ball, and very fine ball had he,
Throw your balls in the air, said the jugglers,
Stick it in and out, in and out, said the tailors,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.

Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
And a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his butchers three.
Now every butcher had a fine chopper,
And very fine chopper had he,
Put it on the block, chop it off, said the butchers,
Throw your balls in the air, said the jugglers,
Stick it in and out, in and out, said the tailors,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.

Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
And a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his horsemen three.
Now every horseman had a fine saddle,
And very fine saddle had he,
Ride it up and down, up and down, said the horsemen,
Put it on the block, chop it off, said the butchers,
Throw your balls in the air, said the jugglers,
Stick it in and out, in and out, said the tailors,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.

Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
And a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his huntsmen three.
Now every huntsman had a fine horn,
And very fine horn had he,
Wake up in the morn with a horn, said the huntsmen,
Ride it up and down, up and down, said the horsemen,
Put it on the block, chop it off, said the butchers,
Throw your balls in the air, said the jugglers,
Stick it in and out, in and out, said the tailors,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.

Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
And a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his coalmen three.
Now every coalman had a fine sack,
And very fine sack had he,
Want it in the front or the back, said the coalmen,
Wake up in the morn with a horn, said the huntsmen,
Ride it up and down, up and down, said the horsemen,
Put it on the block, chop it off, said the butchers,
Throw your balls in the air, said the jugglers,
Stick it in and out, in and out, said the tailors,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.

Old King Cole was a bugger for his hole,
And a bugger for his hole was he,
He called for his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his policemen three.
Now every policeman had a fine beat,
And very fine beat had he,
I got the beat, got the beat, said the policemen,
Want it in the front or the back, said the coalmen,
Wake up in the morn with a horn, said the huntsmen,
Ride it up and down, up and down, said the horsemen,
Put it on the block, chop it off, said the butchers,
Throw your balls in the air, said the jugglers,
Stick it in and out, in and out, said the tailors,
Fiddle diddle dee diddle dee, said the fiddlers,
Merry men are we,
There's none so fair as can compare as the boys from the West Country.