Farmer’s Boy

The sun had set behind the hill, across the dreary moor,
When wet and cold there came a boy, up to the farmer's door
"Can you tell me," said he "If any there be,
Who would like to give employ
For to plow, for to sow, for to harrow and to mow
For to be a farmer's boy, for to be a farmer's boy.

My father'd dead; my mother's left
With five young children small,
And what is worse for mother still,
I'm the biggest of them all.
Though small I'll work as hard as I can
if you will me employ
For to plow, for to sow, for to harrow, and to mow,
For to be a farmer's boy, for to be a farmer's boy.

The farmer's wife cried, "Try the lad. Let him no farther seek."
"Oh do, papa," the daughter cried while the tears rolled down her cheek.
For those who will work it is hard for to want,
Or to wander for employ
For to plow, for to sow, for to harrow, and to mow,
For to be a farmer's boy, for to be a farmer's boy.

The farmer's boy grew to a man,
And when the good old farmer died
He gave the lad full half he had and his daughter for a bride.
The boy that was a farmer is and remembers now with joy.
The break of day when he passed that way
For to be a farmer's boy, for to be a farmer's boy.