Just before the wedding, mother, what a lot there is to do,
Seeing after wreaths and dresses, and the wedding favors, too;
Bridesmaids six, around one crying, spoiling pretty bonnets gay,
Oh! what a comfort ’tis, dear mother, weddings don’t come every day.
Farewell, mother, we must sever,
We must sever, mother,
Cries the bride in tones of pain;
But oh! you’ll come and see us, mother,
You will come and see us,
When we’re back in town again.