One evening, when the husband came home
     From the mowers and the plow,
He started to grumble and complain
     (It was his custom, you know).

For the cow had not been put away,
     And dinner was still a-frying,
And to be sure, across the floor,
     The baby was loudly crying.

So he then did say, “I work all day—
     Nay, I work and work all day—
But you in ease do as you please,
     Always at home you stay!”

His wife replied, “My husband dear,
     You need not angry be;
Nor be forlorn, for tomorrow morn,
     Exchange our work shall we.”

The husband eagerly agreed—
     He thought ‘twas a splendid plan;
The very next day he at home did stay—
     He now was a happy man.

And as for the wife, she took a scythe,
     And into the fields she went;
The husband planned to do all the chores,
     With about but an hour spent.

Now he washed some clothes, then took the cream,
     And churned and churned it he;
But after a while he remembered that
     The clothes did need to dry.

So the husband rose, and he took the clothes,
     And he hung them on the line;
He was scarcely done when into the house,
     Did run his grunting swine.

He straightway ran, now a desperate man,
     After the pig through the door—
But the cream he churned was overturned,
     And pouring all down the floor.

Then quite enraged, the husband sprang,
     And caught the rooting swine,
But it slipped out—now he saw the goat
     Beneath the clothes and the line;

He saw it chew and chew and chew
     On every skirt and coat—
Then with a shout he scrambled out,
     And chased away the goat.

He chased the goat, locked up the swine,
     And the clothes that did remain,
He took them down from off the line,
     And began to churn again.

For butter they’d have, he was resolved—
     So he churned a little bit.
Then he thought of the cow still in the barn,
     With nothing to drink or eat.

But the husband could not leave the churn,
     For the baby was crawling around;
So upon his back he fastened it—
     Now to the barn he was bound.

The sun was high now in the sky,
     And the meadow, far it was;
But the house stood by a hill well nigh,
     And the roof was thatched with grass.

He decided to lay a plank across,
     And thus a plan planned he:
The cow he’d lead on the roof to feed,
     And she content would be.

But first the cow did need to drink—
     So the husband went to the well.
But as he stooped down at the brink,
     The half-churned cream did spill:

All down his back the cream did run,
     And o’er his shoulders and neck,
And then did spill into the well—
     It was a dreary wreck.

Now it was late—near dinnertime,
     And he had no butter yet.
On the rooftop now he put the cow,
     Then a pot o’er the fire he set;

He filled it with water for the oatmeal,
     But ere he the meal did make,
He thought the cow might tumble down—
     And her neck would surely break.

So he took a rope, and he climbed the roof,
     And tied the cow’s neck around—
Then through the chimney, around his waist—
     Now the oats he fiercely ground.

Lo, after all, the cow did fall,
     And in the air swung she;
The husband through the kitchen flew—
     Stuck fast in the chimnéy.

Now the wife came back, and she saw the cow
     In such a sorry spot,
And her husband dear was very drear,
     With his head in the porridge pot.

Now his good wife, she took the scythe,
     And the rope she swiftly cut;
And the husband dear now toppled down,
     And his good wife fished him out.

Now the husband dear, he kissed his wife,
     Then he said like a good man,
“I’m sorry for complaining”—and
     He never did again.