Look!
There goes the ugly maiden,
Wearing a shabby dress.
Alone she walks,
Down this road,
Making a lot of mess.

She knew nobody,
Got no gifts,
All she did was shift.
Shift from here,
Shift from there,
Widening every rift.

There she goes,
To another place,
After receiving no gifts;
But she will cry,
For the mess she will make,
And will be asked again to shift.