Dy chooilley clea er y thie, snieu er my skyn.
Lheeish yn ollan, lhiams y snaie,
S’beg fys t’ec yn ven litcheragh
Dy re Mollyndroat my ennym!’
Spin, wheel, spin; sing, wheel, sing;
Every beam on the house, spin overhead.
Herself’s is the wool, mine is the thread,
How little she knows, the lazy wife,
That my name is Mollyndroat!
When the husband got home that evening he was late, and his wife said to him: