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I Am the Lad That Follows the Plough by Mary A. Barr

 

I am the lad that follows the plough—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me—
In a hickory suit that's pretty well worn
I go to the field at early morn,
I help to scatter the golden corn—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me.

Out in the meadows and woods and lanes—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me—
I watch the sheep and the lambs at play;
When the grass is high I toss the hay;
There isn't a boy in the world so gay—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me.

I go with father to shear the sheep—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me—
I fodder the cattle, the mangers fill,
I drive a team, I go to the mill,
I milk the cows with a right good will—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me.

I help the peaches and plums to save—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me—
For I am the boy can climb a tree;
There isn't an apple too high for me,
There isn't a nut that I can't see—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me.

When I am a man I'll own a farm—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me—
Horses and sheep and many a cow,
Stacks of wheat, and a barley mow;
I'll be a farmer and follow the plough:
Robin and Thrush shall whistle for me.

'Tis better to stand in the golden corn—
Robin and Thrush just whistle for me—
To toss the hay on the breezy lea,
To pluck the fruit on the orchard tree,
Than roam about on the restless sea:
So, sailor-boy, I'll follow the plough.

'Tis better to hear the wild birds sing,
Robin and Thrush on the apple bough—
'Tis better to have a farm and a wife,
And lead a busy, peaceable life,
Than march to the noisy drum and fife:
So, soldier-boy, I'll follow the plough.