THE HOUSEWIFE'S LAMENT

(by Eliza Sproat Turner, as sung by Alistair Brown)


One day as I wandered,				[As I was a-walking]
I heard a complaining,
And saw a poor woman				[I spied]
The picture of gloom;
She glared at the mud				[stared]
On her doorstep ('twas raining),
And this was her wail				[song]
As she wielded her broom:

	"Oh! life is a toil,
	And love is a trouble,
	Beauty will fade				[vanish]
	And riches will flee,
	And pleasures they dwindle,	[will]
	And prices they double,		[may]
	And nothing is what I
	Could wish it to be."

"There's too much of worriment
Goes to a bonnet;
There's too much of ironing
Goes to a shirt;
There's nothing that pays for			[that's worth all]
The time you waste on it;			[spend]
There's nothing that lasts
But trouble and dirt.

	"Oh! life is a toil, ..."
	
"In March it is mud;
It's slush in December;				[snow]
The midsummer breezes
Are loaded with dust;
In Fall the leaves litter;
In muggy September				[rainy]
The wall-paper rots
And the candlesticks rust.

	"Oh! life is a toil, ..."

"There are worms in the cherries,		[There's]
And slugs on the roses,
And ants in the sugar,
And mice in the pies;
The rubbish of spiders
No mortal supposes,
And ravaging roaches,
And damaging flies.

	"Oh! life is a toil, ..."

"It's sweeping at six,
And it's dusting at seven;			[It's]
It's victuals at eight,				[vittles]
And it's dishes at nine;
It's potting and panning
From ten to eleven;
We scarce break our fast
Ere we plan how to dine.

	"Oh! life is a toil, ..."

"With grease and with grime,			[From floor to the ceiling]
From corner to centre,
Forever at war,					[at work]
And forever alert,
No rest for a day
Lest the enemy enter--
I spend my whole life
In a struggle with dirt.				[battle]

	"Oh! life is a toil, ..."

"Last night, in my dream,			[dreams]
I was stationed forever
On a little isle						[far little rock]
In the midst of the sea.
My one chance of life,
With a ceaseless endeavor,			[Was]
To sweep off the waves
Ere they swept over me.				[As]

	"Oh! life is a toil, ..."

"Alas! 'Twas no dream--
Ahead I behold it,
I yield! I am helpless
My fate to avert!"--
She rolled down her sleeves,			[laid down her broom]
Her apron she folded;
Then lay down and died,
And was buried in dirt.

	"Oh! life is a toil, ..."
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