Twas on a Monday morning
That I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-washing of her linen, O
Dashing away with the smoothing iron
Dashing away with the smoothing iron
Dashing away with the smoothing iron
She stole my heart away.

Twas on a Tuesday morning
That I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-hanging out her linen, O

Twas on a Wednesday morning
That I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-starching of her linen, O

Twas on a Thursday morning
That I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-ironing of her linen, O

Twas on a Friday morning
That I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-folding of her linen, O

Twas on a Saturday morning
That I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-airing of her linen, O

Twas on a Sunday morning
That I beheld my darling,
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree.
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-wearing of her linen, O

Somerset, England, arr. John Byrt