To be single is all weel enuf nah an' then,
But it's awk'ard when th' weshin' day comes;
For aw nivver think sooapsuds agree weel wi' men;
They turn all mi ten fingers to thumbs.
An' awm sure it's a fact, long afoor aw get done,
Aw'm slopt throo mi waist to mi fit;
An' th' floor's in' a pond, as if th' peggy-tub run,
An' mi back warks as if it 'ud split.
Aw fancied aw'st manage at breead-bakin' best;
Soa one day aw bethowt me to try,