And so I came at dawn of day,
A-crying, too, I’ve heard them say,
And found few preparations made—
I’ve often wondered that I stayed.
Plain petticoats and untrimmed slips,
Pewter spoons that scratched my lips,
A cradle made of painted pine,
That rocked so rough it made me whine;
Then three long hours every day
The colic checked my baby play;