I Am Watching My Young Calves Sucking

I am watching my young calves sucking;
Who are you that would put me out of my luck?
Can I not be walking, can I not be walking,
Can I not be walking on my own farm-lands?

I will not for ever go back before you,
If I must needs be submissive to thee, great is my grief;
If I cannot be walking, if I cannot be walking,
If I cannot be walking on my own farm-lands.

Little heed I pay, and 'tis little my desire,
Thy fine blue cloak and thy bright bird's plumes,
If I cannot be walking, if I cannot be walking,
If I cannot be walking on my own farm-lands!

There is a day coming, it is plain to my eyes,
When there will not be amongst us the mean likes of you;
But each will be walking, each will be walking,
Wherever he will on his own farm-lands.