You may lay me in my bed, mother,—my head is throbbing sore,
And mother, prithee, let the sheets be duly aired before;
And if you'd do a kindness to your poor desponding child,
Draw me a pot of beer, mother,—and, mother, draw it mild!
THE MAY QUEEN CORRECTED—May, 1879.
They must wrap and cloak me warmly, cloak me warmly mother dear,
For to-morrow is the iciest day of all the sad new year.
Of all the sad new year, mother, the snowiest, blowiest day,
And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.