Maud (of all work)

Bells in the front hall ringing,

When twilight is falling;

"Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,"

They are crying and calling.

Where is Maud? In the field,

And I, who else, am with her;

Gathering leeks and turnips -

Myriads grow together.

Bells in our hall rang,

Ringing through the garretts;

Maud is here, here, here,

In among the carrots.

I pinched her rosy cheek,

She smacked my face in anger:

Maud is nearly seventy,

I did not like to slang her.

I know the way she went

Back with her cheeks so ruddy;

For her feet have touched the staircase

And left the carpets muddy.