Are we wollin'? A one, a two, a free, a four...
A mother was washing her baby one night,
The youngest of ten and a delicate mite.
The mother was poor and the baby was thin,
'Twas naught but an skelingtin covered with skin.
The mother turned 'round for a soap off the rack.
She was only a moment but when she turned back
washing
washed
wanna
before
again
perfectly
anguish
cried
delicate
replied
youngest
moment
skinny
about
night
above
covered
angels
thing
happy
little
mother
where
naught
turned
anymore
should
thank
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