There is a hole in the bucket. . .

There's a hole in my bucket,

dear Liza, dear Liza,

There's a hole in my bucket,

dear Liza, a hole.

Well fix it, dear Henry,

dear Henry, dear Henry,

Well fix it, dear Henry, well fix it.

With what shall fix it, . . .

With straw, . . .

The straw is too long, . . .

Well cut it, . . .

With what shall I cut it, . . .

With an axe, . . .

The axe is too dull, . . .

Then sharpen it, . . .

With what shall I sharpen it, . . .

With a stone, . . . .

The stone is too dry, . . .

Then wet it, . . .

With what shall I wet it, . . .

With water, . . . .

In what shall I fetch it, . . .

With a bucket, . . .

There's a hole in my bucket, . . .

This was one of my first memories of my mother singing to me when i really really dint wanna get outta my bed. The song was always so fascinating that it would come back to where it all started. A full circle!!!