Tamie Lamie's Cure for a Drunken Wife (1790)/The Ploughman's Rant

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see The Ploughman Lad.

THE PLOUGHMAN'S RANT.

To its own Proper Tune.

The ploughman he's a bonny lad,
and all his work's at leisure,
And when that he comes home at e'en,
he kisses me with pleasure.
Up wi't a' my ploughman lad,
up wi't a' my ploughman,
Of a' the lads that I do know,
commend me to the ploughman.

Now the blooming spring comes on,
he takes his yoking early,
And whistles o'er the fallow'd land,
he goes to fallow early.
Up wi't a' my ploughman lad, &c.

The ploughman he comes hame at e'en,
he's often wet and weary,
Cast off the wet put on the dry,
come to your bed my deary.
Up wit a' my ploughman lad, &c.

It's I will wash my ploughman's hose,
and I will wash his o'erly,
And I' will make my ploughman's bed,
and chear him late and early.
Up wi't a' my ploughman lad, &c.

It's merry butt, and merry ben,
it's merry is my ploughman;
Of all the trades that I do ken,
commend me to the ploughman.
Up wi't a' my ploughman lad, &c.

Plow yon hill, and plow yon dale,
plow yon haugh and fallow,
Who winna drink the ploughman's health,
is but a dirty fellow.
Up wi't a' my ploughman lad,
up wi't a' my ploughman,
Of a' the lads that I do know,
commend me to the ploughman.