The Oldest Orphan in the John Grier Home

A perfectly awful day
The first Monday of every month
Every floor scrubbed
Every chair dusted
A perfectly awful day
Every bed without a wrinkle
Every hair combed on 97 orphans
Poor Jerusha Abbot
Has to bear the brunt of it all
Poor Jerusha Abbot
The oldest orphan in the John Grier home
A perfectly awful day
The trustees come to visit
Taking tea breaks
Having reports written
They hurry away in the night
For houses in the city
And I watch them with 97 orphans
Poor Jerusha Abbot
Never breaking free of this place
Poor Jerusha Abbot
The oldest orphan in the John Grier home
Little Tommy Dylan comes singing up the stairs
Jerusha Abbot you are wanted
In the office and you better hurry up
Who wants me?
Mrs. Libbot in the office
And I think she's really mad
Where did I go wrong?
Were the sandwiches not thin enough?
Were there shells in the nutcakes?
Where did I go wrong?
Did a lady visitor see the hole
In Susy Hawthorne's stocking?
A perfectly awful day
A silhouetted figure
Tall and gangly
Shrouded in the darkness
I cannot see his face
But the headlights in the driveway
Cast a shadow sharp against the wall
Looking like a daddy longlegs
The biggest one that I have ever seen
A creeping crawling daddy longlegs
And it makes me laugh
On this awful day
Me, Jerusha Abbot
The oldest orphan in the John Grier home