There was an old man and he lived in the wood
And his trade was selling of brooms
He had one son and his name it was John
And he laid a-bed ‘til it was noon, bright noon
And he laid a-bed ‘til it was noon

Now in come the old man and upstairs he went
And he swore he’d fire the room
If John didn’t arise and sharpen his knives
And away to the wood to cut brooms, green brooms
And away to the wood to cut brooms

Now John he arose and he sharpened his knifes
And away to the woods to cut brooms
He’d bind them all round, carried them through the town
Crying, “Maids do you want any brooms, green brooms?”
Crying, “Maids do you want any brooms?”

Now a lady so high from her window did spy
Young Johnny a-selling of brooms
“Now if you’ll forsake this trade and do what I persuade
And marry a maiden in bloom, green bloom
And marry a maiden in bloom.”

Now Jack gave consent and to church they went
And he married that maiden in bloom
Now I vow and protest there’s not one in the west
Can equal the lad that sell brooms, green brooms
Can equal the lad that sell brooms