As I walked out one morning being in the blooming spring,
I heard a lovely maid complain, so grievously to sing;
Saying, “Cruel was my parents, they did me so annoy,
And will not let me marry with my bonny labouring boy.”
Young Johnny was my true love’s name as you may plainly see
My parents did employ him their labouring boy to be;
To harrow, reap, to sow the seed to plough my father’s land
And soon I fell in love with him as you may understand.
My father stepped up one morning and he seized me by the hand
He swore he’d send young Johnny unto some foreign land.
He locked me in my bedroom, my comfort to annoy
And to keep me there to weep and morn for my bonny labouring boy.
My mother stepped up next morning these words to me did say:
“Your father has intended to appoint your wedding day,”
But I did not make no answer, bor I dared not complain
But until I wed my labouring boy then single I’ll remain.
Oh, his cheeks are like the roses, his eyes as black as sloes
He smiles in his behaviour whever my love goes.
He’s manly, neat and handsome, his skin as white as snow
In spite of my parents with my labouring boy I’ll go.
So fill this glass up to the brim, let the toast come early round,
Here’s a health to the labouring boy that ploughs and sows the ground;
And when his work is over, his home he will enjoy
Oh how happy is the girl that weds with a bonny labouring boy.
As I rode one morning all in the blooming Spring
I overheard a maiden fair most grievously did sing
Saying,”Cruel were my parents who me did so sore annoy
They wouldn’t let me tarry with me bonny labouring boy.
Oh Johnny was my true love’s name as you may plainly see
My father he employed him as a labouring boy to be
To harrow, reap, and sow the seed and plough my father’s land
And very soon we fell in love, as you may understand
My mother said me one day, ‘How can you stoop so low
To marry a poor labouring boy around the world to go
Some noble lord might fancy you great treasures you could enjoy
So do not throw your love away on a poor yung labouring boy
Oh mother dearest mother your talk is all in vain
For lords and knights and dukes and earls, their efforts I disdain
I’d rather live a single life, where time I would enjoy
Awaiting happy prospects with my bonny labouring boy’
Some fifteen pounds of my best clothes I sold that very night
And with the boy that I love best to Belfast we did fly
His love has so entangled me, the same I will ne’er deny
It’s with my bonny labouring boy I mean to live and die
So fill your glasses to the brim and let the toast go round
And drink to every labouring boy that ploughs and sows the ground
It’s when his work is over, it’s home he’ll come with joy
And happy is the girl who weds with the bonny labouring boy