On brewers' and on millers' carts the brazen bands will play,
And I'll be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be Queen o' the Dray.
* * * * *
For hours and hours we'll roam about, until the team it tires,
And Robin will imbibe more rum than he actually requires;
At many a 'public' he will stop a-moistening of his clay,
And I'll be the Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be the Queen o' the Dray.
* * * * *
So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear.
If I don't seem to hear you, give me a smack upon the ear;