We have an old Mother that peevish is grown,

She snubs us like Children that scarce walk alone;

She forgets we’re grown up and have Sense of our own;

Which nobody can deny, deny,

Which no body can deny.

If we don’t obey Orders, whatever the Case;

She frowns, and she chides, and she loses all Patience,

 and sometimes she hits us a Slap in the Face,

Which nobody can deny, &c.

Her Orders so odd are, we often suspect

That Age has impaired her sound Intellect:

But still an old Mother should have due Respect,

Which nobody can deny, &c.

Let’s bear with her Humours as well as we can:

But why should we bear the Abuse of her Man?

When Servants make Mischief, they earn the Rattan,

Which nobody should deny, &c.

Know too, ye bad Neighbours, who aim to divide

The Sons from the Mother, that still she’s our Pride;

And if ye attack her we’re all of her side,

Which nobody can deny, &c.

We’ll join in her Lawsuits, to baffle all those,

Who, to get what she has, will be often her Foes:

For we know it must all be our own, when she goes,

Which nobody can deny, deny,

Which nobody can deny.