[Jerusha Abbott]
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 ninety seven orphans!

Poor Jerusha Abbott
Has to bear the brunt of it all!
Poor Jerusha Abbott
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 ninety seven orphans
Poor Jerusha Abbott
Never breaking free of this place!
Poor Jerusha Abbott
The oldest orphan in the John Grier Home

Little Tommy Dylan comes singing up the stairs:
Jerusha Abbott
You are wanted
In the office
And you better hurry up!

Who wants me?

Mrs Lippett
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 Susie Hawthorne's stocking?

I hurry to the office
The long lower hall is quite dark
One last trustee is leaving through the big front door
His arm raised, waving to the automobile in the drive

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 long legs
The biggest one that I had ever seen!
A creeping, crawling daddy long legs
And it makes me laugh
On this awful day

Me, Jerusha Abbott
The oldest orphan in the John Grier Home