The Quaker’s wife sat down to bake 
With all her bairns about her. 
She made them all a sugar cake, 
And the miller he wants his mouter (i.e. a fee for grinding flour). 
Sugar and spice and all things nice, 
And all things very good in it, 
And then the Quaker sat down to play 
A tune upon the spinet. 
Merrily danced the Quaker’s wife, 
And merrily danced the Quaker 
Merrily danced the Quaker’s wife, 
And merrily danced the Quaker.