Well, as I walked out one morning, I spied a buxom lass
Belonging to some dairyman, she had a field of grass
And it grew between two mountains at the foot of a running stream
So she hired me to cut it down while the small birds sweetly sing.
Then I said, “Oh me pretty fair maid, what wages do you give?
For mowing it is hard labour, unless your scythe is good.”
So she said, “Well, if you do please me well as I am a lady clear
I will give you a crown an acre and plenty of strong beer.
Then I said, “Oh me pretty fair maid, I like your wages well
And if I mow your grass down you shall say how it is done well,
For my scythe it is in good order, oh it lately has been ground
And so, me bonny lass, I’ll mow your grass until it’s down unto the ground.”
Then she said, “Oh me handsome young man, and will you now begin.
For me grass it is in good order and I long to have it in
It is such pleasant weather, oh I long to clear the ground
So keep your scythe in order to mow me meadows down.”
Then with courage like a lion I entered in the field
But before I had mowed one swathe of grass, oh I was obliged to yield.
But before I had mowed one swathe of grass, me scythe being bent and broke.
Then she said, “Oh me handsome fair man, you’re tired of your work.”
Then she said, “Oh me handsome young man, you’re tired of your work.
For mowing is hard labour and it’s weakening to the back
For mowing is hard labour, oh and you must it forsake
So around my little meadow, you may use your fork and rake.”
Then I said, “Oh me pretty fair maid, pray do not on me frown.
But if I stop the summer long, oh I can not cut it down
For it is such a pleasant place and grows such crops of grass
And it is well-watered by the spring that makes it grow so fast.”