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The lark in the morning she rises off her nest,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her breast;
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her wings.
Oh, Roger the ploughboy he is a dashing blade,
He goes whistling and singing over yon leafy shade;
He met with pretty Susan, she's handsome, I declare,
She is far more enticing than the birds in the air.
The lark in the morning she rises off her nest,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her breast;
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her wings.
One evening coming home from the rakes of the town,
The meadows been green and the grass had been cut down;
As I should chance to tumble in the new-mown hay,
"Oh, it's kiss me now or never, love," this bonnie lass did say.
The lark in the morning she rises off her nest,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her breast;
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her wings.
When twenty long weeks they were over and past,
Her mum chanced to notice how she thickened 'round the waist;
"It was the handsome ploughboy," the maiden she did say,
"For he caused me to tumble in the new-mown hay."
The lark in the morning she rises off her nest,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her breast;
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her wings.
Here's a health to all ploughboys wherever you may be,
That like to have a bonnie lass a-sitting on your knee;
With a jug of good strong porter you'll whistle and you'll sing,
For a ploughboy is as happy as a prince or a king.
The lark in the morning she rises off her nest,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her breast;
And like the jolly ploughboy she whistles and she sings,
She goes home in the evening with the dew on her wings.
