The Farmer's Boy

The sun went down behind yon hill,
Across yon dreary moor,
Weary and lame a poor boy came
Up to a farmer's door.
‘Can you tell me if any there is
That will give me employ,
For to plough and sow,
To reap and mow,
And to be a farmer's boy,
To be a farmer's boy.

‘For my father's dead, and mother's left
With her five children small;
And what is worse for mother still,
I'm the eldest of them all.
Though little I be, I fear no work
If you will me employ,
For to plough and sow,
To reap and mow,
And to be a farmer's boy,
To be a farmer's boy.

‘And if that you won't me employ,
One favour I have to ask:
Will you shelter me till break of day
From this cold winter's blast?
At break of day I'll trudge away
Elsewhere to seek employ,
For to plough and sow,
To reap and mow,
And be a farmer's boy,
To be a farmer's boy.’

The farmer said, ‘Pray, take the lad,
No further let him seek.’
‘Oh yes, dear father,’ the daughter cried,
While the tears ran down her cheek;
‘For those that will work it's hard to want
And wander for employ,
To plough and sow,
To reap and mow,
And to be a farmer's boy,
To be a farmer's boy.’

In course of time he grew a man,
And the good old farmer died;
He left the lad the farm he had,
And his daughter for his bride.
So the boy that was now farmer is;
He sits and thinks with joy
Of the lucky, lucky day he came that way
To be a farmer's boy,
To be a farmer's boy.
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