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The washerwomen of Caen
H ere the children
Came next morn,
Walking by
The river Orne ;
Near the poplars
On the green,
Where the Washerwives
Are seen.
Here they looked
At old Nannette,
Wringing out
The garments wet ;
Saw how Eugenie,
Her daughter,
Soaked them first
In running water;
Watched the washers
Soaping, scrubbing,
With their mallets
Rubbing, drubbing
Working hard
With all their might,
Till the clothes
Were clean and white.
