I thought in my heart she'd never be good,
I cut me a twig of the holly green,
I think 'twas the toughest ever seen,
I brought it home, and laid it by.
On Thursday I went the same to try,
And if she would no better be,
The devil might take her to-morrow, for me.
On Friday morn, to my surprise,
A little before the sun did rise,
She tun'd up her clapper in a scolding tune,