For men must work and women must weep, And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep, And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.

Tho' we earn our bread, Tom, By the dirty pen, What we can we will be, Honest Englishmen. Do the work that's nearest Though it's dull at whiles, Helping, when we meet them, Lame dogs over stiles.

Have thy tools ready, God will find thee work

For men must work and women must weep./ And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep.

Have thy tools ready. God will find thee work.

Do the work that's nearest, / Though it's dull at whiles, / Helping, when we meet them,/ Lame dogs over stiles.