Mama got up first on a winter day,

Milked the cows and fed them hay,

Slopped the hogs with a bucket of gruel,

And got the children off to school,

Did the washing, mopped the floors,

Using the water collected when rain pours,

cooked a dish of home-dried fruit,

Pressed her Alfred's best Sunday suit,

Swept the parlor and made the bed,

Baked a dozen loaves of bread,

Split some wood and lugged it in,

Enough to fill the kitchen stove bin,

Cleaned the lamps and put in oil,

Stewed some apples she thought might spoil,

Churned the butter, made a cake

She put aside for the church potluck to take...

Mercy! The calves then got out of the pen!

She ran and chased them in again,

Gathered the eggs from under Mabel,

Returned to the house and set the table,

Cooked a supper that was delicious,

And afterwards washed all the dishes,

Fed the cats scraps as far as that goes,

Mended a basket full of clothes,

Then opened the organ and began to play

"When You Come to the End of a Perfect Day."