( The Mother's Lament )
A mother was bathing her baby one night
The youngest of ten, and a tiny young mite
The mother was poor and the baby was thin
Only a skeleton covered with skin
The mother turned round for the soap off the rack
She was but a moment, but when she looked back
Her baby was gawn and in anguish she cried
'Oh where is my baby?' The Angels replied,

Chorus: 'Your baby has gone down the plug-hole
Your baby has gone down the plug
The poor little thing was so skinny and thin
It should have been washed in a jug
Your baby is ever so happy
He won't need a bath any more
Your baby has gone down the plughole
Not lost but gone before.'

The mother was frantic, the baby was gawn,
But she had got nine more, and the water still warm
She covered her eye-balls and stuck in a pin
Picked out another one ever so thin
Then into the water she brushed off a tear
When she turned back, she said 'crumbs it's not here'
'Now that one has gawn' and in anguish she cried
'Oh where is my baby?' The Angels replied,


The mother was livid. 'How dare you.' she cried
'Don't take no more chances' the Angels replied
'We've had your two young'ns, we'd like a few more'
Then gave her a nice smile and dissolved through the floor
Now mother was boiling. She smashed in the bath
'You're not having my kids.,' she cried with a laugh
Now they've not touched no water from that very day
'It's the smell' Mother says, 'That keeps the Angels away.'

U.S. version written and composed by Morey Amsterdam & Kay Patrick - circa 1944
Performed by Elsa Lanchester (1902-1986) recorded 1951.
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