The Bedmaking

Me father, he was a good old man,
He put me to service when I was very young.
My mistress and me we never could agree,
Because that my master he would love me.
Well she sent me upstairs to the loft
To make up a bed so neat and soft.
Master followed up with a gay gold ring,
Saying, “Betty, have this for your bedmaking.”
All through the kitchen and down through the hall,
All through the parlour among the women all,
Master followed up with a gay gold ring,
Saying, “Betty, have this for your bedmaking.”
Mistress come upstairs in a great haste,
Caught the master there with his arm round me waist.
From the top to the bottom stair she did him fling,
Saying, “Mister, take that for your bedmaking.”
All through the kitchen and down through the hall,
All through the parlour among the women all.
Everybody asked me wherever I had been,
And they laughed when I said, “At the bedmaking.”
Mistress she flung me out of the door,
She called me a nasty cheeky little whore.
The weather being wet and my clothes being thin,
How I wished I was back at the bedmaking.
Six month over and seven month past,
Pretty fair maid grew thick about the waist.
Her stays wouldn't meet nor her pinafore pin;
She cried when she thought of the bedmaking.
Eight month over and nine month gone,
Pretty fair maid had a beautiful son.
She's took him to the church, she had him christened John,
And she took him back again to the dear old man.
She cursed him through the kitchen and down through the hall,
Cursed him through the parlour among the women all,
Saying, “If you won't pay me, take your little son John,
Cos he never cost you nothing but the bedmaking.”