Lyrics:

The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
And she goes off in the air with the dew all on her brest
And like the jolly ploughboy, she whistles and she sings
And goes home in the evening with dew all on her wings
Oh, Roger the ploughboy he is a dashing blade
He goes whitling and singing for yonder leafy shade
He met with dark-eyes Susan, she's handsome I declare
And she is far more enticing than the birds all in the air
As they were coming home from the rakes of the town
The meadow bein' all mown and the gras had been cut down
As they should chance to tumble all on the new-mown hay
"Oh it's kiss me now or never", this bonnie lass would say
When twenty long weeks were over and past
Her mammy asked the reason why she thickened round the waist
"It was the pretty ploughboy" this girl then did say
"For he asked me for to tumble all on the new-mown hay"
Here's a health to you ploughboys wherever you may be
That like to have a bonnie lass a-sittin' on each knee
With a pint of good strong porter he'll whistle and he'll sing
And the ploughboy is as happy as a prince or a king
The lark in the morning she rises off her nest
And she goes off in the air with the dew all on her brest
And like the jolly ploughboy, she whistles and she sings
And goes home in the evening with dew all on her wings