You’ve plucked a curlew, drawn a hen,

Washed the shirts of seven men,

You’ve stuffed my pillow, stretched the sheet,

And filled the pan to wash your feet,

You’ve cooped the pullets, wound the clock,

And rinsed the young man’s drinking crock,

And now we’ll dance to jigs and reels,

Nailed boots chasing girls naked heels

Until your father starts to snore,

And Jude, now you’re married, will stretch on the floor.