I saw an old woman go up a steep hill,
And she chuckled and laughed, as she went, with a will.
And yet, as she went,
Her body was bent,
With a load as heavy as sins in Lent.
“Oh! why do you chuckle, old woman;” says I,
“As you climb up the hill-side so steep and so high?”
“Because, don’t you see,
I’ll presently be,
At the top of the hill. He! he!” says she.
I saw the old woman go downward again;
And she easily travelled, with never a pain;
Yet she loudly cried,
And gustily sighed,
And groaned, though the road was level and wide.
“Oh! why, my old woman,” says I, “do you weep,
When you laughed, as you climbed up the hill-side so steep?”
“High-ho! I am vexed,
Because I expects,”
Says she, “I shall ache in climbing the next.”