Tim Hart & Maddy Prior Follow

I've waited longing for today,
Spindle, bobbin and spool away,
In joy and bliss I'm off to play,
Upon this high holiday.

[Chorus:]
And spindle, bobbin and spool away
Oh joy that it's a holiday!

The dirt upon the floor's unswept,
The fireplace isn't cleaned or kept,
I haven't cut the rushes yet,
Upon this high holiday.

[Chorus]

In pails the milk has got to go,
I ought to spread this bowl of dough,
It clogs my nails and fingers so,
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As I knead this high holiday!

[Chorus]

The cooking hearths I must fetch in,
And fix my kerchief under my chin,
Darling Jack, lend me a pin
To fix me well this holiday!

[Chorus]

But when we stop beside the track,
At the inn, this Sunday, Jack.
We’ll whet my whistle and pay my whack
As on ev'ry holiday.

[Chorus]

I've waited longing for today,
Spindle, bobbin and spool away,
In joy and bliss I'm off to play,
Upon this high holiday.
[Chorus]

Then he takes me by the hand
And lays me down upon the strand
And my buttocks feel like sand
Upon this high holiday.
[Chorus]

Now my belly begins to swell
As big and round as any bell
And to my dame I dare not tell
What happened to me this high holiday.