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Rh Then hurry, hurry, down the stairs The busy maidens run; The shining suds fly all about, The work it is begun. And I am bid with frowning look To get out of the way; You little miss, what want you here Upon our washing day?

Oh, there's no peace within the house; Ah me! ah, well away! There's little comfort in the house Upon a washing day.

To see the house a while ago There came three ladies gay, With many a smile and gracious look. And then—they went away. Now what they said, or what they thought, I'm sure I cannot say; But I do not think they'll come again Upon a washing day.

When 'tis thump—thump—splash—splash— Scold—scold away, Ah, little comfort's in the house Upon a washing day.

Oh, cleanliness, sweet cleanliness, So smiling bright and fair, Oh, who would think that thou art gain'd With so much toil and care? Or who would say, that thou dost owe Thy face so smooth and gay, To soap and suds and scrubbing-brush Upon a washing day? 