When, weary and lame, a boy there came
Up to a Farmer’s door,—
Saying, can you tell me, if any there be,
Can give to me employ,
For to plow, for to mow, for to reap, for to sow,
For to be a Farmer’s Boy.
My father is dead, my mother is left
With her five children small,
And what is worse, for mother still,
I’m the eldest of them all;