I’m just a jolly ploughman
And my sweetheart’s the old swing.
I am not a whole-time ploughman,
For I finish up in spring.
Then I can sow and dig and mow
And I the flail can fling
And at the churn I take a turn –
And many another thing.

My father taught me how to plough,
The lark taught me to sing,
I’ve learned the blackbird’s whistle,
And the linnet’s lilt-i-ling.
The wild birds love my whistling;
And I love their carolling –
Their hymns of hope and joy and love
And many another thing.

I am a jolly ploughman
In the cot where I am king;
With the jolliest little wifie
That ever wore a ring.
She patches clothes and heels and toes;
The youngsters have their fling;
While I mend brogues for the little rogues –
And many another thing.

MICHAEL MULLIN ‘The Bard of Foremass’
Foremass Lower, Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone.