My father left me an acre of land

Ivy, sing ivy

Between salt water and salt sea sand

And a bunch of green holly and ivy



I plowed it all under with an old rams horn

I sowed it all over with nettles and corn



I scythed it well with the brim of my hat 

I carted it to mill with a team of great rats



I stored it well in the wee pigs sty

With all these riches, what'll I buy?