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.