1.
As I was a-wandering
In the month of sweet May,
I heard a young ploughboy
To whistle and to say,
And aye as he was lamenting;
These words he did say:
‘There’s no life like the ploughboy
in the month of sweet May.’
2.
The lark is a bonny bird,
And flies off her nest;
She mounts the morn air
With the dew on her breast.
She flies o’er the ploughboy;
She whistles and she sings,
And at eve she returns
With the dew on her wing.
3.
Early one morning,
The ploughboy arose
Whistling and singing
To his horses as he goes.
He met a pretty fair maid;
He met her in the lane;
One question he asked her,
And he thought it was no shame.
4.
One question he asked her:
He would take her to the fair
To buy her some ribbons
For to tie up her hair.
Now this fair maid, being young and foolish,
To the fair she would not go,
Saying: ‘I don’t want your ribbons;
I can buy myself a bow.’
5.
Then walking and talking
Down by yon shady grove,
With no one to listen,
But the young turtle dove,
He threw his arms around her neck,
And brought her to the fair,
And he bought her the ribbons
For to tie back her hair.
6.
And as they returned
From the fair unto the town,
The meadows were mowed,
And the grass it was cut down.
The nightingale she whistled
Upon the hawthorn spray,
And the moon was a-shining
Upon the new-mown hay.
7.
Good luck unto the ploughboys,
Wherever they may be;
They will take a winsome lass
For to sit upon their knee,
And with a jug of beer, boys,
They’ll whistle and they’ll sing,
And the ploughboy is as happy
As a prince or a king.