The Painful Plough

Come all you jolly ploughboys Of courage, stout and bold That labour all the winter Through stormy winds and cold.

'Hold, ploughman', says the gardener 'Count not your trade with ours But walk you through the garden And view the various flowers.'

'Likewise those curious borders And pleasant walks renew There's no such piece of pleasure Performed by the plough'

‘Hold, gardener,’ says the ploughman ‘No calling I despise For each man for a living Upon his trade relies.’

‘For Adam was a ploughman When ploughing did begin The next that did succeed him Was Cain his eldest son.’

‘Some of the generations The calling to pursue That bread might not be wanted For needing of the plough.’

‘For Samson was a strong man And Solomon was wise Alexander for the conquering Was all that he did prize.’

‘King David he was valiant And many a man he slew But none of these bold heroes Can live without the plough.’

‘Now all these wealthy merchants Will plough the raging seas That bring home foreign treasures For those that live at ease.’

‘And fine silks from the Indies With flour and spices too They all are brought to England By virtue of the plough.’

I hope none are offended At me for singing this It never was intended For to be taken amiss.

If it were not for the ploughboys Both rich and poor might rue For we are all depending Upon the painful plough