One day as I wandered, I heard a complaining,
And saw a poor woman the the picture of gloom;
She glared at the mud on her doorstep (‘twas raining)
And this was her wail as she wielded her broom:

Oh! life is a toil, and love is a trouble
And beauty will fade, and riches will flee,
And pleasure they dwindle, and prices they double
And nothing is as I could wish it to be

There’s too much of worriment goes to a bonnet
There’s too much of ironing goes to a shirt
There’s nothing that pays for the time you waste on it
There’s nothing that lasts us but trouble and dirt

Oh! life is a toil, and love is a trouble
And beauty will fade, and riches will flee,
And pleasure they dwindle, and prices they double
And nothing is as I could wish it to be

In March it is mud, it is slush in December
The midsummer breezes are loaded with dust
In fall the leaves litter, in muggy September
The wallpaper rots and the candlesticks rust

There are worms in the cherries and slugs on the roses
And ants in the sugar, and mice in the pies
The rubbish of spiders no mortal supposes
And ravaging roaches and damaging flies

Oh! life is a toil, and love is a trouble
And beauty will fade, and riches will flee,
And pleasure they dwindle, and prices they double
And nothing is as I could wish it to be

It’s sweeping at six and it’s dusting at seven
It’s victuals at eight, and it’s dishes at nine
It’s potting and panning from ten to eleven
We scarce break our fast ‘ere we plan how to dine

With grease and with grime from corner to center
Forever at war and forever alert
No rest for a day lest the enemy enter
I spend my whole life in a struggle with dirt

Oh! life is a toil, and love is a trouble
And beauty will fade, and riches will flee,
And pleasure they dwindle, and prices they double
And nothing is as I could wish it to be.

Last night in my dream I was stationed forever
On a bare little isle in the midst of the sea
My one chance of life with a ceaseless endeavor
To sweep off the waves as they swept over me

Alas ‘twas no dream, again I behold it
I yield I am helpless my fate to avert
She lay down her broom and her apron she folded
She lay down and died and was buried in dirt

Oh! life is a toil, and love is a trouble
And beauty will fade, and riches will flee,
And pleasure they dwindle, and prices they double
And nothing is as I could wish it to be