Miller’s Tale

The Miller’s Tale – Lyrics

Read Chaucer’s Miller’s Tale

Listen to this tune, it’s about a rich man

Licking a silver spoon, who lived in a mansion

And rented a room to this young scholar kid,

Who’d been to the two most respected colleges

For logic and philosophy; he got scholarships

But he still lived in poverty due to the preposterous

Cost of living, without a dollar he lived as an Astrologist

And followed his dreams, his name was Nicholas

And when it came to women his game was limitless.

The ladies he visited became libidinous

When he played his instruments; he’d just lick his lips

And sing a melody as sweet as licorice.

His virility eclipsed the man he was living with,

A rich, elderly fellow whose name was John;

His flame was gone and still he’d married a young filly,

Who was really beyond his ability to satisfy;

In the sack this guy was on disability.

Prone to senility, pride and jealousy,

He slept with open eyes, terrified of infidelity.

His wife brought humility to life; in the village she

Liked to shop, wearing her husband’s ring,

With her cheeks painted up a slutty pink.

Her name was Alison, and she had a naughty stink;

Her mouth was said to be as sweet as bubbly drink,

And if you saw her on the street, you’d probably think

She was a hotty and had the body of a mink;

You’d probably think a lot of things, and start groveling,

Especially with her dropping winks, heart softening,

With flirting glances that often fling a person’s senses

Off the brink, and begin work against us.

Nicholas waited for the right circumstances

But eventually he managed to catch her defenseless

And he reached beneath her skirt with perverted intentions

It was beneath her to stand such utter disrespect

And she refused her would-be lover’s kiss with threats

That she would scream bloody murder, and risk his neck,

Though to him it seemed like just a twisted test,

And Nicholas persisted until her lips were set

And dripping wet, as lips are quick to get

If caressed by whispered gifted breath,

And Nicholas pressed her with his best

Tricks, until at last she just said yes

To the gist of his request for illicit sex,

Except she explicitly told him this, direct:

“My husband is jealous as well as overzealous.

He’s a menace when he catches me lookin’ at other fellas;

You can tell his love is hellish, so while this develops

We need to keep it secret, so that he doesn’t kill us.”

Nicholas wasn’t filled with fear; he was cool.

He said: “You think I’ve spent all these years at school

Without preparing the tools to make married men fools?

I’m aware of the rules, just watch the master at work”

And with these brash words he patted her curves,

Grabbed at her, kissed her, and had his last flirt

Before she gathered her skirts and went to mass at her church.

Now this church had a clerk whose name was Absalon,

A romantic, emasculate man who had this long

Hair that was blond and brushed so that it shone.

His back was not strong, but what he lacked in brawn

He made up with his passion when he played and practiced on

His fiddle, dancing drunk at taverns ’til his cash was gone.

Now it happened that Absalon’s fancy chanced upon

Alison and he began to romance and fawn,

And prance on her lawn at the crack of dawn,

Panting fondly and chanting pansy songs,

But her husband wasn’t jealous, he would laugh, catching on

And ask, “what’s wrong, honey, can’t you hear Absalon,

Prattling on?” And she would stretch and yawn:

“He won’t take no for an answer, John.”

So Absalon kept his pants on; his hopes were slim;

He was a joke to them and Alison hardly noticed him;

Her devotion went instead to Nicholas

Whose wits were spent in a wicked attempt

To trick her loving husband into giving them

A chance to get busy in Original sin.

This is what Nicholas did to begin:

He went to his bedroom on the top floor

And he stayed there with a locked door

For three days, inquisitive knocks ignored,

And he gazed at the stars, lost and absorbed,

And he played with his astrology charts,

And since John had no knowledge of these arts,

When he busted it, he saw what he thought

Was a man possessed, caught in a sleepwalk,

And never suspected it was all a cheap fraud.

He said: “Nicholas, what’s wrong, have you lost your mind?

You’ve been watching the skies for an awful long time,

Clouding your eyes with astrological signs.”

Nicholas thought of a lie that would leave John blind.

He dropped to his knees and said, “you will not believe

What I’ve seen with my astrology; in all honesty

It’s a prophesy, a vision from God,

Man’s hypocrisy is really pissin’ Him off,

And making a mockery of all the wisdom and love

He’s offering. John, this isn’t a bluff!

He’s not pleased, and now it’s His decision to flood

The earth with rough seas, and drown the wicked in blood.

But you and your wife, plus me, will be lifted above

The slaughter, us three can drift in a tub

Until the waters recede and He’s given it up.

But we’ve gotta prepare, and I solemnly swear

That God declared we have to hang a tub up in the air,

At the top of the house, and when the flood gets there

We can cut the ropes and float out, with nothin’ to fear.

Now this foolish man just threw his hands up in despair,

Flustered and scared, and cried: “it just isn’t fair!”

But he had to put his trust in God’s justice and care.

He was thankful, at least, that his instructions were clear.

He spent the day in his workshop, with dust in his hair,

Building the tub, first he constructed it there,

Then he dragged it to his house, and he lugged it upstairs

And suspended it so that it hung up in the air

And could be cut free if the flood should appear.

Once he’d gotten prepared, John offered a prayer

To combat despair and fell asleep in the tub

Exhausted, and there we’ll leave him, above

Where Nicholas and Alison conduct their secret love.

Blushing, the two of them rushed to the very place

Where John was usually tucked, and there they laid,

And crudely made lust, and while the pair played

In the night’s dark shade, Absalon came

Beneath the window pane, calling Alison’s name,

With the flame of love alive in his brain

Which he tried to explain by describing his pain;

He sighed: “The way you act is a crying shame.

Forsaken and sad, I strive in vain,

Wasting my breath on sacred pacts,

Waiting patiently for you to pay them back.”

Alison sat up, awake at last

And laughed in his face with disdainful wrath:

“Take that “sacred pact” heartbreak crap

Away from this place, you disgraceful rat!”

“But wait,” she said, “I take it back,

You can have a kiss, if you wish, but make it fast.”

The night was slate black as she raised the glass

And displayed her backside and waited, relaxed,

As Absalon reached out his lips and gave it his best

As he proudly kissed the middle of her naked ass.

But something was weird, it tasted bad,

And had a beard of long, rough hairs.

Absalon’s fears were given a nudge

When Alison giggled and slammed the window shut.

He didn’t blow up, but he did hold a grudge.

When he realized the ass-kiss was true,

That’s when he knew what he just had to do.

He ran quickly to this blacksmith he knew,

And asked if he’d do a favour as a friend’s requirement,

Inquiring if he could borrow the man’s branding iron,

Which happened to be standing in the fire he was fanning

Higher to get it heated. When he had what he needed,

Absalon proceeded back to the scene at

The mansion, where he’d been mistreated,

And in his sweetest voice he pleaded:

“Oh, lover lips, it would be utter bliss

If you could see fit to give me another kiss!”

Above, Nicholas had gotten up to piss

And he muttered in a muffled whisper under his breath:

“What a glutton for punishment this sucker is!”

As he slid his butt out the window up to his hips

Sensing nothing amiss, with he grip to hold him steady,

But Absalon couldn’t guess where to strike, so instead he

Said, “Say something miss!” and Nicholas broke wind heavy,

The sound thunderous, like a motor revving.

For Absalon there was no forgetting; he knew this joke already

And this time he had his red-hot poker ready,

And he reached overhead and scorched his ass badly.

With the hole in his flesh expanding, Nicholas ran

Through the house, cauterized, screaming, “Water, Water!” Cries

Of “water” started to rise up and surprised

John, who thought the cries where because he saw the water rise

When the flood arrived. Suddenly he shot upright,

And before he’d even got his eyes opened well,

John reached out with his pocketknife, cut the rope and fell

From up on high, without a hope in hell,

And broke his elbow when he smoked the window sill.

But the greatest shame of all was when the neighbours came

To investigate the screams. The others made it seem

Like John was plain insane, raving about Noah,

Roped up in a boat, waiting for the flood to show up.

They all had a good laugh at these three sad saps.

John with his fractured arm, flat on his back,

And Absalon’s kiss, smack dab in the crack,

And Nicholas with the flesh of his ass scabbed black,

And Alison sat back, relaxed and laughed,

The only one left with her rep intact.

And that’s the end of that, as a matter of fact.

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