There was an old woman in Woodbridge, there was,
So proper and tidy and all of them things,
She would wander all day with her duster in hand,
She was one of those women who clean where they stand,
And while she is at it she sings, boys!
And while she is at it she sings!
Now, there's no doubt about it, her house was a show,
With everything proper and stowed in it's place,
And that's why her dust-bins had a shed of their own,
Like a mirror each one of those bins it had grown!
You could read every line in your face, boys!
You could read every line in your face!
Now, there's nothing the matter with tidiness, no,
No matter with keeping your house up to scratch,
But these bins were located one side of a yard,
Where a Doberman Pincher was prowling on guard,
Trained to kill if you lifted the latch, boys!
Trained to kill if you lifted the latch!
Now, it's all very well to protect what is yours,
And it's better not leaving temptation around,
But a job on the "dust" is rewarding enough,
And there's nothing like taking the smooth with the rough,
To be savaged by some bloody hound, boys!
To be savaged by some bloody hound!
Now, this Doberman Pincher would play in the yard,
And a couple of old tennis balls as his game,
In his make-believe game, it's himself that he saw
As the world's only dog with a bionic jaw,
And that's when the garbage-man came, boys!
And that's when the garbage-man came!
Now, fate took a hand on this coldest of days,
For his wife, she had made him to wear a warm coat,
And to knot up his muffler to keep out the chill,
And for once in his life, he had bent to her will,
And the dog couldn't get at his throat, boys!
And the dog couldn't get at his throat!
Now, when the woman above was drawn to the noise,
It's down from a high chamber-window she calls
To the dust-man engaged in a struggle for life,
In a middle-class tone you could cut with
