How can the world look sweet to he

Who owns the twins, fair babe, heaven bless it,

Who hath no own mother to caress it.

Its own mother hath sweetly gone above,

Oh, how he needs a mother’s love,

My own heart runs o’er with tenderness,

And its own noble father tries to do his best.

But housework, men can’t perfectly understand,

Oh, how it needs a helping hand.

Ah! when twins are sick, and hired girls have flown,