To dig himself a hole;
Them little legs he's got
They can't go far, trot, trot,
They can't go far, run run,
Oh no, it is his fun;
I'm sure he's near,
He must be here
A-skulking round the house
Just like a little mouse.
I'll get a mouse-trap in a minute,
And bait with cheese that's smelly
To bring him helter-skelly--
That little empty belly,
And then I'll have him in it.
Where have he hid,
That little kid,
That good old Jacob was so kind to?
And when a rest I am inclined to
Who'll boil the cow and dig the kittles
And milk the stockings, darn the wittles?
Who mugs of tea
Will drink with me?
When round and round
I pound the ground
With boots of cowhide, boots of thunder,
Who'll help to make the noise, I wonder?
Who'll join the row
Of loud bow-wow
With din of tin and copper clatter
With bang and whang of pan and platter?