I’ve waited longing for today: Spindle, bobbin, and spool, away! In joy and bliss I’m off to play Upon this high holiday.
Chorus (repeated after each verse): Spindle, bobbin, and spool, away, For joy that it’s a holiday!
The dirt upon the floor’s unswept, The fireplace isn’t cleaned and kept, I haven’t cut the rushes yet Upon this high holiday.
The cooking herbs I must fetch in, And fix my kerchief under my chin. Darling Jack, lend me a pin To fix me well this holiday!
Now midday has almost come, And all my chores are still not done I’ll clean my shoes till they become Bright for a high holiday.
In pails the milk has got to go; I ought to spread this bowl of dough - It clogs my nails and fingers so As I knead this holiday!
Jack will take me on my way, And with me he will want to play: I needn’t fear my lady’s nay On such a high holiday!
And when we stop beside the track At the inn this Sunday, Jack Will wet my whistle and pay my whack As on every holiday.
Then he’ll take me by the hand And lay me down upon the land And make my buttocks feel like sand Upon this high holiday.
In he’ll push and out he’ll go, With me beneath him lying low: “By God’s death, you do me woe Upon this high holiday.”
Soon my belly began to swell As round and great as any bell; And to my dame I dared not tell What happened to me that holiday. Maddy Prior sings Serving Girl’s Holiday
I’ve waited longing for today: Spindle, bobbin and spool, away! In joy and bliss I’m off to play Upon this high holiday.
Chorus (repeated after each verse): And spindle, bobbin and spool, away, For joy that it’s a holiday!
The dirt upon the floor’s unswept, The fireplace isn’t cleaned and kept. I haven’t cut the rushes yet Upon this high holiday.
In pails the milk has got to go; I have to spread this bowl of dough — It clogs my nails and fingers so As I knead this high holiday.
The cooking herbs I must fetch in And fix my kerchief under my chin. Darling Jack, lend me a pin To fix me well this holiday!
And when we stop beside the track At the inn, this Sunday, Jack Will whet my whistle and pay my whack As on every holiday. Kate Rusby sings Serving Girl’s Holiday
I’ve waited longing for today: Spindle, bobbin and spool, away! In joy and bliss I’m off to play Upon this high holiday.
Chorus (repeated after each verse): And spindle, bobbin and spool, away, For joy that is high a holiday!
The floors haven’t been cleaned or swept, The fireplace hasn’t cleaned or kept. I haven’t cut the rushes yet Upon this high holiday.
The milk into the pails must go: I have to roll this bowl of dough — It clogs my nails and fingers so Upon this high holiday.
And when we stop along the track Unto the inn, this Sunday, Jack Will whet my whistle and pay my whack Upon this high holiday.