Lyrics:
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One day I was walking, I heard a complaining
And saw an old woman the picture of gloom.
She gazed at the mud on her doorstep ('twas raining)
And this was her song as she wielded her broom.
Chorus:
Life is a trial and love is a trouble.
Beauty will fade and riches will flee.
Pleasures they dwindle and prices they double.
And nothing is as I would 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 the time you waste on it.
There's nothing that last us but trouble and dirt.
Chorus
In March it is mud, it is slush in December,
The midsummer breezes are loaded with dust.
In fall the leaves litter, in muddy September,
The wall paper rots and the candlesticks rust.
Chorus
There are worms on the cherries 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.
Chorus
It's sweeping at six and it's dusting at seven,
It's victuals at eight and it's dishes at nine,
It's potting and panning form ten to eleven,
We scarce break our fast till we plan how to dine.
Chorus
With grease and with grime from corner to center,
Forever at war and forever alert.
No rest for a day lest the enemy enter,
I spend my whole life in struggle with dirt.
Chorus
Last night in my dreams I was stationed forever
On a far distant isle in the midst of the sea.
My one chance of life was a ceaseless endeavor
To sweep off the waves as they swept over me.
Chorus
Alas! Twas no dream; ahead I behold it,
I see I am helpless my fate to avert.
She lay down her broom, her apron she folded,
She lay down and died and was buried in dirt.
Chorus
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