us do carry washing down to the river, us wimmin, having plentiful flat rocks, smaller sstones to beat the filth out of our cold washed smocks, wring wring, sing, wring, madrigals, before our maidens lightly parade to our riverbank towing small wooden cart, laden with wooden plates, spoons, wash scrub, sing, before testing their marriagability by washing sects clothes, men and boys squat on the opposite bank, watching, commenting,which maid will wash most dishes the more efficiently, which maid the most comely, home now to black cauldron hanging by its sturdy hook above communal fire, anever washed, it be never empty, happen pigs trotters potatoes and beans aplenty, men be licking tneir plates clean, it be our way
in future times folks will still envy us closeness to water, river, reeds, leaves, stones, how advanced we are, we be clean ‘n’ happy, we be Troggs