1.
As I was a-walking
One morning in the spring,
I met a young damsel,
So sweetly she did sing;
And as we were a-walking
These words she did say:
‘There is no life like a ploughboy’s
All in the month of May.’
2.
The lark in the morn
She will rise up from her nest,
And mount in the air
With the dew all on her breast;
And like the pretty ploughboy
She will whistle and sing,
And at night she’ll return
To her own nest back again.