trad
I was told by my Aunt I was told by my mother
That going to a wedding Is the makings of another
Well if this be so Then I’ll go without a bidding
O kind Providence Won’t you send me to a wedding
Chorus:
And it’s Oh dear me How will it be
If I die an old maid In a garret
Now there’s my sister Jean She’s not handsome or good looking
Scarcely sixteen And a fella she was courting
Now she’s twenty-four She’s a son and a daughter
Here am I, forty-four And I’ve never had an offer
I can cook and I can sew I can keep a house right tidy
Rise up in the morning And get the breakfast ready
There’s nothing in this wide world That makes my heart so cheery
As a wee fat man To call me his own deary
So come landsman or come townsman Come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler, come dancer Come ploughman or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man Come fool or come witty
Come any man at all Won’t you marry out of pity?