It's of a brisk young ploughboy
He was ploughing on the plain
And his horse it stood down in yonder shade
It was down in yonder shade, he went whistling to plough
And by chance there he met a pretty maid, pretty maid
By chance there he met a pretty maid

And oftentimes they wandered into that yonder glade
And contented they lay amidst the shade
And the sweet bells did ring and the nightingale did sing
Oh, for the ploughboy and his tender maid, tender maid
Oh, for the ploughboy and his tender maid

But when her cruel parents they became to know
That her love, he was ploughing on the plain
They sent for a press-gang and pressed her love away
And they sent him to the wars to be slain, to be slain
They sent him to the wars to be slain

And that he was on the sea, his love on England's shore
He swore by every star that rose on high
That he never to the ploughing would go lest she be at his side
Together and forever by and by, by and by
Together and forever by and by