To-morrow will be the happiest, the maddest, merriest day,
For I’m to be Queen of the May, mother, I’m to be Queen of the May.
I must wear my new kid slippers and my charming muslin dress,
And every one who sees me will admire my loveliness;
They’ll weave a garland fair for me, they’ll weave a garland gay,
And I will be crowned the Queen, mother, crowned the Queen of the May.
Prepare the mustard plasters, mother, a mustard bath likewise,
For chill the wind blows though the sun is shining in the skies,
And in this dress so very thin, no shawl around me rolled,
I know that while the sport goes on I’ll catch my death of cold.