The Jolly Ploughboys

Come all you jolly ploughboys, who labour with a plough,
And listen to the story that I will tell you now,
It tis not told for glory it is not sold for wealth,
It is a simple story that I will tell myself,
It's early in the morning and lately in the gloom,
It wiery wiery walkin till the cows come home,
Now the farmer is a hard man, the farmer he is cruel,
He feeds the horses bridescabe, but all we get is gruel,
The pigs are fed on whisky, the sheep are fed on ale,
But all we get is crusty bread and water in the pale,
It's early in the morning and lately in the gloom,
It wiery wiery walkin till the cows come home,