SUNDAY MORNING



One morning, one morning, one morning in spring

I heard a fair damsel so gallantly sing

As she sat under her kallamaking*,

"Please God, I'll be married next Sunday!"



"Fourteen years is too young to get married.

A girl of your age is apt to get sorry.

For seven long years I'd have you tarry.

Put off your wedding next Sunday!"



"Old man, old man, you talk on a cheap scale,

That's seven long years against my will.

My mind is to marry and I mean to fulfill.

I wish that tomorrow was Sunday."



"My shawl and my gown lies under the press

My love will be here before I can dress,

With a bunch of blue ribbons tied round my waist

To make me look neat against Sunday"



"Saturday night will be all my care

To feeble my locks and curl my hair,

And two little maidens to wait on me there

To dress me up neat against Sunday."



"Saturday night to dance all around

With a bunch of blue ribbons and new fashioned gown,

Invite all the ladies from Barbersville town

To be at my wedding next Sunday."



*as sung. Singer reportedly looked up printed copy later, and

reported it as "cow a-milking"

From Folk Songs out of Wisconsin, Peters

Collected from Mrs. Ollie Jacobs, Pearson, WI, 1941

@marriage

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