Are we rolling? A one, a two, a three, a four

A mother was washing her baby one night
The youngest of ten and a delicate mite
The mother was poor and the baby was thin
'Twas naught but an skelingtin covered with skin

The mother turned 'round for a soap off the rack
She was only a moment but when she turned back
A baby had gone and in anguish she cried
'Oh, where has my baby gone?' The angels replied

Oh, your baby has gone down the plug 'ole
Oh, your baby has gone down the plug
The poor little thing was so skinny and thin
He should have been washed in a jug, in a jug

Your baby is perfectly happy
He won't need a bath anymore
He's a-muckin' about with the angels above
Not lost but gone before

Thank you, do you wanna do it again?