Angeline the baker, lives on the village green.
The way I always loved her, beats all you’ve ever seen.
Angeline the baker, Angeline I know.
Should have married Angeline, twenty years ago.
Angeline the baker, age of 43.
Fed her sugar candy, but she still won’t marry me.
Her father was a baker, his name was Uncle Sam.
I never can forget her, no matter where I am.
She said couldn’t do hard work, because she is not stout.
Baked the biscuits every day and poured the coffee out.
I bought Angeline a brand new dress, neither black nor brown.
It was the color of a stormy skies, before the rain came down.
Sixteen horses in my team, the leader he was blind.
I dreamed that I was dying, I saw my Angeline.