The Cook was in the kitchen, the feasters in the hall
A single lady slaving would attempt to feed them all
A family of newcomers saw her cooking on her own
Each one took a pot and swore she wouldn't cook alone
The stone is in the kettle
The water's on the boil
The work is always lighter
When there's many hands to toil!
Next there came a Countess, always giving, always kind
She was set to chopping carrots and she bent to task assigned.
Around the corner peering came a shy and gentle man
"Forgive me for intruding, but I'll help with what I can."
The stone is in the kettle
The water's on the boil
The work is always lighter
When there's many hands to toil!
The butcher's son declared that he would brave both cold and heat
And spent the day outdoors to turn and baste the roasting meat.
A mother said "I'd cook but I've my little one to feed,
But we'd be happy to attend to any errands that you need."
The stone is in the kettle
The water's on the boil
The work is always lighter
When there's many hands to toil!
So soon the fires were roaring up to meet the feast's demand
And the single lady slaving had a dozen cooks at hand
So though the work was frenzied, when the servers hit the hall
The feast was bright and merry with food enough for all
The stone is in the kettle
The water's on the boil
The work is always lighter
When there's many hands to toil!