The song, in case you don’t know it, is a duet between Martha and Henry. I picture them as a couple of pioneer settlers,making a homestead in a rough-hewn wood cabin in the rocky, Appalachian woods.

Martha asks Henry to fetch some water. Henry says he can’t.

“There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha, dear Martha. ” he explains, grabbing the bucket to show it to her. See? he gestures, pointing. “There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha. A hole.”

Well, they have to have water, right? There’s no way around it. Martha, slightly exasperated sings back to Henry, ”Well fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,” Her hands are on her hips. Her foot is tapping the dusty ground. “Well fix it, dear Henry. Dear Henry, fix it!”

The story unfolds from there. Poor Henry holds his hands out at his side, shrugs his shoulders and says to Martha, “With what shall I fix it, dear Martha?”

She has little patience with him. She tells him to use straw.

He informs her that the straw is too long, and she tells him to cut it.

Then, he actually dares to ask “With what shall I cut it, dear Martha, dear Martha?”

She’s pretty sure his every last lick of common sense is gone. She tells him to use a knife.

“The knife is too dull,” he says.

“Well, sharpen it!” she snaps..

“With what?” he asks, smiling a bit slyly.

“With a stone!”

He gets his sharpening stone and pulls the knife blade across it. It’s not going to work.

He looks up at Martha and tells her the problem is that the rock is too dry.

Poor Martha’s patience is hanging by a very slim thread now. “Well, wet it!” she growls.

“With what shall I wet it, dear Martha, dear Martha?” he says, crossing his arms across his chest, and looking her in the eye.

“With water!” she snaps, calling him a dunce in her mind.

“In what shall I fetch it?” he asks ever so slowly.

“In the bucket!” she spits through clenched teeth.

Then he gets her.

Standing nose to nose with her, he grins, then sings, “There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Martha, dear Martha.”

And that’s where the song ends. Unless, of course, you want to sing it all over again. Some people do that.

I imagine there’s a moral to this old song somewhere. Maybe it’s advice to keep a spare bucket on hand. But I think it’s probably just to remind us that we’re all like Martha and Henry sometimes, picking at each other when things go wrong. Such is life. It’s okay.

Besides, after we leave them, Martha and Henry have a good laugh at their situation and work together to figure out workable solutions to their problem. By nightfall, they’re enjoying freshly brewed tea in front of a bonfire.

They don’t tell you that in the song. But it’s good to know.

Have yourself an excellent week, my friend! And do think about picking up a spare bucket.

Warmly,
Susan