THE ROVING JOURNEY-MAN
Young Jack he was a journey-man
That roved from town to town;
And when he'd done a job of work
He lightly sat him down.
With his kit upon his shoulder, and
A grafting knife in hand,
He roved the country round about,
A merry journey-man.
And when he came to Exeter
The maidens leaped for joy;
Said one and all, both short and tall,
"Here comes a gallant boy."
The lady dropt her needle, and
The maid her frying-pan;
Each plainly told her mother that
She loved the journey-man.
He had not been in Exeter
The days were barely three,
Before the Mayor, his sweet daughter
She loved him desperately;
She bid him to her mother's house,
She took him by the hand,
Said she, "My dearest mother, see,
I love the journey-man!"
"Now out on thee, thou silly maid!
Such folly speak no more:
How can'st thou love a roving man
Thou ne'er hast seen before?"
"O mother sweet, I do entreat,
I love him all I can;
Around the country glad I'll rove
With this young journey-man.
"He need no more to trudge afoot,
He'll travel coach and pair;
My wealth with me—or poverty
With him, content I'll share."
Now fill the horn with barleycorn,
And flowing fill the can,
Here let us toast the Mayor's daughter
And the roving journey-man.