With wheel, to threads their flax I pull.
I grind at mill,
Their malt up still;
I dress their hemp, I spin their tow.
If any wake,
And would me take,
I wend me laughing ho, ho, ho!
When house or hearth doth sluttish lye,
I pinch the maidens black and blue,
The bedd-clothes from the bedd pull I,