John Grumblie

John Grumblie vow'd by the light of the moon,

And the green leaves on the tree,

That he could do more work in a day

Than his wife could do in three.

"With all my heart," his wife, Betty, said,

"If that you will allow,

To-morrow you 'll stay at home in my stead,

And I'll go drive the plow."

"But you must milk Tidy, the cow,

For fear that she go dry;

And you must feed the little pigs

That are within the sty.

And you must mind the speckled hen,

For fear she lay away;

And you must reel the spool of yarn

That I spun yesterday."

The old woman took a staff in her hand,

And went to drive the plow;

Her husband took a pail in his hand,

And went to milk the cow.

But Tidy hinched, and Tidy flinched,

And Tidy broke his nose,

And Tidy gave him such a blow,

That blood ran down to his toes.

"High, Tidy! ho, Tidy! high, Tidy!

Tidy, stand thou still;

If ever I milk thee, Tidy, again,

'T will be sore against my will."

He went to feed the little pigs

That ran within the sty;

He hit his head against the beam,

And he made the blood to fly.

He went to mind the speckled hen,

For fear she'd lay astray;

And he forgot to reel the yarn

His wife spun yesterday.

So he swore by the sun, the moon, and the stars,

And the green leaves on the tree,

If his wife ne'er did a day's work in her life,

She would ne'er be blamed by he!