The Washerwomen of Caen

Here the children came next morn,
Walking by the river Orne;
Near the poplars on the green,
Where the washerwives are seen.

Here they looked at old Nannette,
Wringing out the garments wet;
Saw how Eugénie, her daughter,
Soaked them first in running water;

Watched the washers soaping, scrubbing,
With their mallets rubbing, drubbing—
Working hard with all their might,
Till the clothes were clean and white.