In her some faults would oft discover,
And led her a life, a regular drudger,
When she was in the Convent.
This Nun she could do nothing right,
She was always wrong, both day and night,
To be a Nun is’nt nice,
How happy they live in a Convent!
She made her on her knees to go,
Black-lead the stoves, scrub the floor,
Empty them things the name I don’t know,