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